Know Your Enemy
by catOTPeeta
Summary: When Peeta Mellark was chosen to compete for his survival in the 74th Hunger Games, he was determined to come out alive. The odds aren't particularly in his favour, but with the help of an unexpected ally he might just make it.
1. Chapter 1

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 1 **

* * *

Peeta paced the room when his father and mother left after their brief meeting. Delly's parting words of "You're strong Peeta. You can win this," echoed in his head as he rested it against the wall. Could he win? Or even come close? He was strong, he proved that in the bakery often enough when his father could barely lift the loads that Peeta managed with ease. But could he fight...could he fight to the death? Could he pick up a weapon and kill someone with it? He didn't know.

Maybe he should have been excited. Perhaps, under different circumstances, he would have been. After all, it was his first time away from home, away from his parents and away from his District. It was also his first time on a train. Sitting motionless in one of the plush, velvet armchairs, Peeta Mellark felt like the whole world was thundering ahead of him at a million miles an hour while he was left tagging along behind with absolutely no chance of catching up.

Of course, it's hard to feel excited when every minute and every mile brings you a step closer to your imminent death. He was trying not to think about that, though. Instead he focused on the window, the way the blues from the skies and the greens from the trees blurred and swirled together as they whipped past the window. It seemed almost incomprehensible to him that he could travel such a great distance without moving a muscle, yet there he was, sitting still as the ground beneath him flew by. He tried to ignore the fact he was leaving his home, his family and his old life far behind him. He'd probably never see any of them again.

On the other side of the carriage, Katniss sat glowering out of the other window in a frosty silence. Peeta knew her. Of course he did. Everyone from District 12 knew Katniss Everdeen: hunter, gatherer, provider, survivor. If anyone could win, it would be her. He bit his lip, wondering if he should say anything to break the tense atmosphere that hung so thick in the air he could almost choke on it. After a minute, he decided against it. After all, there was no point in getting attached to someone he'd have to kill.

He heard Effie coming before he saw her, fluorescent pink, frilly and glowing. The clack-clack-clack of her heels on the hard floor was the first giveaway, and then the trill of her shrill voice which followed. "Haymitch?" he heard her call from a little way away, followed by another clack-clack-clack. "Haymitch?" She cooed again, then paused, clacking her way closer to their compartment.

"Have you seen Haymitch?" she asked a faceless person from a few metres away. Not even a minute later, the door slid open and her ridiculous head popped around the corner. "Oh!" Effie exclaimed when she caught sight of the two tributes. Her neon eyebrows shot up towards her hairline and her heart-shaped lips curled around to form a pink 'O'. It was a perfect caricature of surprise. "There you two are! I thought you were supposed to be staying much further down the train!"

She paused for a moment, as if waiting for some response, so Peeta smiled at her thinly. Katniss didn't even bother to acknowledge her presence. Effie grimaced, as if the at girl's lack of oh-so-important manners physically pained her, before continuing. "Have either of you seen Haymitch?"

"No, he hasn't been here yet," Peeta told her, watching as her face contorted into an unhappy grimace. "I'll keep an eye out for him, though," he offered lamely, and this seemed to placate her slightly as she shot him a grateful smile as if he were doing her a favour. He wasn't, it just happened to be in his best interests to look for the guy. In fact, Peeta was keen to meet his mentor as soon as possible. The more he talked to him, the more time he trained and formed his strategies and the more chance he'd have of surviving. That's pretty much how the game worked, right?

"Where do they keep the alcohol in this place?" Katniss piped up from the corner, and Effie was quick to shoot her a disapproving glare. The younger girl rolled her eyes. "Not for me, I'm talking about Haymitch. Surely he's most likely to be where there are drinks available?"

Peeta was taken aback, wondering at which point she'd dropped her nonchalant façade and decided to participate in the conversation. Effie didn't seem to notice the girl's change in attitude, though, she just nodded enthusiastically, as if the idea had never even crossed her mind, then tottered out of the room with another series of clacks and calls of "Haymitch?"

"Good call there," he commented, shooting the girl opposite him a soft smile. She shrugged back, turning back to face the window and ignoring him again. It was going to be a long train journey.

—

Time, much like the world outside, flew by a thousand times faster than it should have from inside the train. Everything was a blur, from meeting Haymitch to the lonely night curled up in thick warm sheets. It seemed the only constants he had left were Katniss's ice-cold attitude, Haymitch's inebriation and Effie's shrill laugh. He'd look away from the window for a second and by the time he looked back, mountains would have changed to oceans and flat green fields to rocky deserts.

So far, he'd learned nothing. No game tactics, no strategies, no way to survive.

—

The next morning he awoke with a sense of determination. It was his life on the line here and, no matter how drunk Haymitch was, it was his duty to help them. He was their mentor, right? He got dressed into a simple white shirt and black pants. No point in dressing himself up, he was going to have to take them off soon enough anyway for his "makeover".

As he peered through the window to the breakfast carriage, he noticed Haymitch nursing his head whilst pouring himself a cup of coffee. Effie was there flapping as usual, sporting a new wig that was thankfully the more natural colour of blonde (nonetheless no compensation in the size department), but Katniss was nowhere to be seen. He sighed in relief before opening the door, knowing her icy cold manner wouldn't help him to persuade Haymitch.

"Morning," he strolled into the room in an attempt to look casual, "How are you?"

He directed the nervous question at Haymitch but, of course, Effie was all too happy to answer him: "Peeta! Good morning," in her affected Capitol accent she continued to tell him every little detail about her day so far while Haymitch attempted to make himself fade into the background, grunting at an Avox for something. The Avox returned to Haymitch a few minutes later with a bottle of whiskey. By this time, Effie had finished her rambling so he flashed a quick smile at her and muttered a "Good," before facing Haymitch.

"Don't bother kid," he started, "I'm not in the mood."

This annoyed Peeta. Maybe he wasn't in the mood either, what with being sentenced to probable death and all, but at least he was making an effort to be productive (unlike some people, who would rather sit around drinking expensive whiskey for breakfast than actually be helpful) but he didn't say anything. He knew had to play it nicely; getting angry wouldn't help him at all.

"Well, you're my mentor, right?" Peeta smiled innocently at Haymitch, who just stared back at him blankly. "So you can help me in the games. I mean, that's how it works, right? I come with the talent and you...show me how to use it?"

The man burst into laughter. "Now that is cute. Do you not realise that you have little to no chance of winning? That you have almost no hope at all?" he buttered his toast and shook his head, "You're too nice for this little boy. You'll be broken in less than a minute."

Peeta smirked slyly. He had an idea of how to play this.

"What about if I wasn't so nice?" he walked over to the plush armchair and picked it up as if it were as light as a feather. "What if I did have a chance of winning? Would you help me then?" he laughed and threw the armchair up in the air. "Because I sure as hell hope so." He caught the armchair easily and set it back down again. "I don't want my talent to go to waste." He slowly let a smug grin settle on his face, even though he felt nerves working their way into his stomach like butterflies.

"Peeta I can't believe you just did that! Do you realise how much those chairs cost? " Effie glared at him, absolutely scandalized. But Peeta didn't turn to her, focusing on Haymitch instead, who slowly began to smile.

"Impressive," the man commented, leaning forward in his chair to look at Peeta more intently. It was as if deciding whether or not the boy was worth his time and effort. Whether he was worth saving. There was a tense silence, even Effie holding her tongue as they waited for the mentor to continue.

"Okay, kid," he said after what seemed like an eternity. "You might just have convinced me. I'll help you." Haymitch's smile stretched a little wider at this, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. Peeta didn't say anything, just tried to beat down the sudden hope that flared up in his chest as he waited for the other man to continue. "It's not me you need to convince, though, it's the sponsors. You may not be a completely lost cause, but you know I can't save your life, kid. Don't expect me to save you."

Peeta nodded, a small sigh of relief slipping from his lips. At least now he wasn't completely alone in this. "I suppose I'll work with the girl too," his mentor said after a moment, pulling him back to the present. "I can't really help one of you and not the other. But, between you and me," his voice dropped down to a whisper, "I don't like her much at all."

Just then, as if on cue, the door swung open and Katniss strode in, her morning scowl even more prominent than the one she wore the night before. She looked like she needed a coffee. "Speak of the devil," Haymitch muttered under his breath, and Peeta snorted, drawing the girl's attention to him in the form of yet another frosty glare.

"Is something funny?" she snapped angrily and, if looks could kill, Peeta was sure he'd have died then and there without even setting foot in the arena. She was kind of terrifying, he decided. Effie sat in the corner filing her nails obliviously, but he noticed that even Haymitch looked apprehensive.

"He agreed to help us," Peeta said to break the silence, gesturing to their mentor with a weak smile in her direction. Katniss raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"He agreed to help us, did he?" she repeated scornfully. "How exactly can he help us, Peeta? He can't even help himself." Haymitch rolled his eyes at her doubt, kicking his bare feet up on the table, exposed toes just inches away from her plate of food. She wrinkled her nose in obvious disgust, but didn't say anything.

"You're forgetting that I won this thing once, sweetheart. And now that I'm your mentor, I call the shots. You two are going to listen to me without question, or else the minute you get in that arena you'll die. You got that?" They both nodded, Katniss somewhat more reluctantly than Peeta, and Haymitch shot them a satisfied smirk.

"It's so lovely to see you all getting along!" Effie piped up from the corner, her newly manicured hands clapping together in an over exaggerated glee. "I hate to interrupt, but I thought I should let you know that we'll be arriving at the Capitol on schedule which is such a relief! We wouldn't want to have a bad first impression and punctuality is the key to politeness! I hope you're all ready! Isn't this exciting?"

All three of them ignored her as she continued to babble happily about how much they would love, love, love the splendour of their new surroundings. "Your training starts the minute you step foot off this train," Haymitch told them, his voice suddenly serious. "So, here are your rules for today. Go and get ready, make yourselves presentable, smile and wave to the crowd as we come in. Make them like you." He looked at Katniss doubtfully. "They're going to be the ones funding your survival, not me. When we get off the train, you're going to be handed over to your stylists. Do whatever they tell you, and trust them no matter what."

—

He tried to keep those words in mind as another one of the Capitol's wildly dressed bimbos ripped a strip of hair off his arm. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes when the pink-haired girl with orange skin – Paloma – sighed sympathetically. "There's only one more to go!" She piped in her too-high voice. "And then we only have to touch up your hair and make-up and that doesn't hurt at all!" With that she yanked the last strip.

"Ryden, we need you to grease him down!" The man with the gold lipstick who called himself Ryden moved over to him and spread a putrid green substance down his arms and face.

"You know, Portia is going to love you! You don't look horrible at all now that we've got rid of all your hair!" This came from the most eccentric of the trio, a woman called who nearly couldn't be classed as a woman as a result of her shocking alterations on her body. She had dalamation spots all over herself and even had her ears altered to mimic the canine: appropriately named as she was called Domino. Was her alteration a result of her name or did she choose the name to reflect her horrid body appendages?

"Thanks," Peeta coughed, his voice rough from not speaking, "I guess. When will she be here?"

"Just a few moments actually!" Paloma answered, clipping away at his hair. "In fact, rinse him down Domino and I will go and call Portia! I think we're just about done!" She exclaimed with verve and pranced out of the room wagging her tail behind her.

—

Peeta closed his eyes as his prep team left. They were so odd, he thought, how they were so hung up on issues that were honestly of no importance: what colour was the right colour to have your hair this season, the latest issues in fashion and what food is not the 'right food to eat' this year. His head buzzed with their trivial day to day problems.

He lay his head down on the bench and thought about the other tributes. He'd seen the recaps of the reapings yesterday and a few stuck out in his mind in particular. The little girl from 11 stood out – but then it is always shocking when a twelve year old gets reaped, and this little girl looked as frail as a leaf shaking in the wind. It was the monstrous boy from 2 called Cato however, who spiked a jealousy in Peeta unlike any he'd ever felt before and was the most memorable. How could this boy be so intimidating and ooze the silent confidence and killer instinct that Peeta just couldn't manage to convey? In a second he'd decided that no matter what he wanted Cato as his ally and he wanted to act just like him: it was the best way to ensure his own survival.

When he came to this conclusion, a woman who didn't meet many Capitol standards apart from her purple lipstick entered. "Hi, I'm Portia!" she smiled widely.

"I'm Peeta. Nice to meet you." Peeta smiled back, encouraged by the normality of her appearance.

"Well Peeta you sure scrub up well!" She winked and shook his hand. "Well, before we begin I must tell you that me and Cinna – that's Katniss' stylist – asked for District 12 – and for a reason."

Peeta stared at her. Who would pick District 12? It was the laughing stock of Panem. Everybody knew that, the Capitol especially.

"You see, we thought of the perfect idea to get people to remember you – I'm sure you know about the importance of sponsors?" She smiled at Peeta wider and he began to warm to her further though he felt nerves bounce around his stomach. "You're not afraid of fire, are you Peeta?"

* * *

**A/N: **_Hello to anyone reading this! It's__ new and we're working pretty hard on it, so it would be awesome to hear what you think!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 2**

* * *

Peeta wasn't afraid. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Sure, his back was on fire, the flames curling upwards to lick at the nape of his neck, but he wasn't afraid. As Portia had promised, they didn't hurt at all, just tickled at his skin in a soft way that was almost comforting.

Outside, away from the tunnel where the chariots were queued up, concealed from public eye, he could hear the roar of the crowd as they awaited their first glimpse of the Tributes. It was probably the highlight of their year, if the cheers and excited screams were anything to go by. They were loud enough to drown out the sound of Peeta's heavy heart pounding against his ribs as the wheels beneath him began to slowly turn, rolling them forwards.

Portia waved to him as they went, mouthing 'Good luck!' as the distance between them steadily increased. He nodded once, smiling back at her confidently. He knew he could do this.

Beside him, on the other side of District 12's chariot, he noticed that Cinna was watching Katniss with an anxious expression. Turning to look at her, Peeta quickly realized why. The girl next to him seemed like a complete stranger, vulnerable and barely recognizable as the plain-looking hunter from his district. The Capitol had made her strikingly beautiful but, despite this, her confidence seemed to have deserted her. She was scared, very obviously so.

Up close, Peeta could see that her face was pale beneath the thick layers of makeup that covered it and that her hands were shaking. As they rolled steadily closer to the crowd, Katniss looked more and more like she was going to throw up. He offered her a comforting smile, knowing that if she went out there looking scared, she'd drag his reputation down with hers. He hadn't been expecting her to be so weak.

They were near the mouth of the passage when the deafening screams of the crowd finally hit him. There was only one other chariot in front of them and he watched as they disappeared into the hungry sea of colourful people. Above them hung a large screen, the image on it flickering between the other chariots. He glanced up at it just in time to see Cato smiling confidently, the almost-bare torso of his costume accentuating his rippling muscles as he waved and winked to the crowd.

Peeta clenched his jaw, the familiar feeling of jealousy washing over him. That's what they needed to be like. That's what would get them sponsors. Edging closer to Katniss, he grabbed one of her hands to stop them from shaking as he whispered to her harshly. "Stop that. You've got to pull yourself together."

She turned to him with wide eyes, her terror obvious. It was their turn to go out. "You're going to make both of us look bad if you keep on frowning like that," he explained in a slightly gentler tone, giving her fingers a comforting squeeze. "Smile. That will make them like you. You're going to be fine."

Katniss nodded, forcing a small smile, and Peeta dropped her hand in favour of waving out to the crowd. Just seconds later, he felt her fingers twine with his in mid-air, joining their hands together. He turned to her quizzically, confused. "Please," she whispered back, "I need this."

"Okay," he told her, grinning and holding their hands up to the sky proudly, as if they had already won. The people around them gasped, a whole new wave of cheers erupting with every person they passed. The crowd was left breathless as they caught sight of District 12; all eyes in the courtyard were immediately trained on the chariot on fire and the burning Tributes it held within. Peeta turned to Katniss, shooting her a smug smile, a moment that was captured by every camera and played out to the crowd from every direction as the surrounding screens lit up with striking images of their faces. Illuminated by the flames, they looked fierce, determined and unstoppable.

Ahead of them the other contestants rolled on, long forgotten by the Capitol and quite literally outshone by the burning costumes. Peeta felt like he was on top of the world, knowing that they'd stolen the limelight.

He'd be willing to bet anything that Cato was fuming.

* * *

His head was spinning when he stepped off the chariot almost an hour later, his legs stiff from being held still for so long and his fingers red and bruised from Katniss's vice-like grip on them. She smiled at him sheepishly, and Peeta wondered if this meant they were friends now or something. He hoped not.

"You did it!" Effie trilled, tottering over to them in her six-inch stilettos and pulling them both into her sparkly green arms. "You were amazing, you were the talk of the night! I am so _proud_ of you both!"

"Nice touch with the handholding there, sweetheart," Haymitch agreed, smirking over at Katniss, who blushed a little and then looked away. "Very cute indeed. The crowd absolutely loved it!"

Portia, Cinna, and the two prep teams crowded around them too, patting them on their (now extinguished and no longer burning) backs and congratulating the pair on their impressive entrance into the games. Peeta could have sworn he saw Ryden shed a tear or two of joy, but when questioned the man swore it was just the poor lighting.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the less enthused parties that surrounded the other contestants offering sympathetic pats on the shoulders and commiserations to their Tributes who, for the most part, looked somewhat crestfallen.

"It's okay, you're going to be fine," he overheard one stylist tell a sobbing girl in an attempt to calm her down. District 4 always got the worst outfits. The girl in question was dressed as a giant fish. "Not everything is decided on your first night, you can still win them over."

Craning his neck around, Peeta's eyes landed on just the person he wanted to see. Cato stood in the corner of the room, scowling at anyone who came within a five-meter radius of him. His hand was curled into a tight fist at his side, and even the rest of his team left a fair bit of distance between themselves and him. It seemed as though they were worried that he'd lash out and kill them if they got too close.

Then, as if he knew he was being watched, Cato's cold eyes turned to meet Peeta's.

Maybe he should have been embarrassed to be caught staring, but he wasn't. Still on a high from the success of their opening night, he raised his chin defiantly and shot Cato a challenging smirk. The other boy's face contorted in disgust, and he raised a finger to his own throat, slowly miming slitting it open as he mouthed 'you're dead, twelve' back at him.

Peeta gulped and averted his eyes quickly, realizing just a little too late that it was probably a bad idea to get on the wrong side of this year's strongest contestant before they'd even started training. He was screwed.

"…We've got no time to waste, you have to go and get ready or we'll be late!" Effie was babbling as she ushered them back into the elevator, her silly shoes not slowing her down even slightly. Peeta hadn't even known that she was talking.

"Late for what?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. There wasn't anything else to do that night, he was sure of it. Effie paused mid-stride, turning to look at him incredulously.

"Well, if you had been listening to me the first three times I told you, you'd have known that there's a Tribute's dinner tonight," she told him with a disapproving glare. "It isn't televised, so not many of the public are aware of it."

"It's an opportunity for you to all get to know each other more, ah, intimately before your training begins," Haymitch chimed in with a smirk. Next to him, Effie repeatedly pressed the button that would get them to the correct floor with an impatient sigh, as if she could make the elevator move faster through sheer force of will. She really didn't cope well with tardiness. "You'd better use it. The better you know your enemy, the more chance you have of survival."

"You have an hour to get ready," Effie warned as the doors slid open at their floor, and then the prep team all but assaulted Peeta when he stepped past the threshold of the room. They appeared to be hell bent on redesigning his entire image before he even set foot in the penthouse, tugging the clothes from his back and dousing him in a sticky hairspray.

He allowed himself to be dragged, dressed and groomed by them, letting his mind wander as they tugged him into a snug dress shirt and tight-fitting black pants. The hour had turned into a handful of minutes before he had time to blink. Dinner with the other tributes. For some reason he was nervous, even more so than he had been earlier when he was standing in the chariot and waiting to face the Capitol. Maybe the nerves were due to Cato's death threat.

He heard Effie's insistent calls of "it's time to go!" from the next room. With a sigh and one final glimpse in the mirror he squared his shoulders, stood up a little straighter and attempted to shake away the butterflies that scrambled manically around his stomach.

It's not like he could turn up there looking weak – not when he had a point to prove.

* * *

Dinner was a stagnant affair at first and, for the most part, each of the Tributes hovered awkwardly alongside their counterpart from the same District, avoiding the gaze of their opponents as they slurped their fancy Capitol soup or gnawed at their bread.

Katniss was sat beside him quietly, shoveling her food into her mouth as if it were about to run away from her. Although she no longer looked at him as if he had just murdered her little sister, the atmosphere wasn't friendly enough for him to feel comfortable with the silence. He sought to distract himself from it by watching the other Tributes, sizing them up as he did so.

The movements of the Careers really caught his attention. He hadn't noticed it at first, not until he started paying attention, but they had spread themselves out amongst the other Tributes and seized the opportunity to do what they did best – intimidate the hell out of the opposition.

A few places to his left, he could see the blond from District 1, Glimmer, stick her chest out and flutter her eyelids at the boy from 7 as she spoke to him. He was pretty uncomfortable, blushing beet red and trying hard to look at anything other than her cleavage. Poor guy.

"You must be so scared," she cooed to him in faux sympathy, stretching her hand out to caress the hairs at the nape of his neck. He flinched away from her and shook his head. "Oh, you're not scared? You must be brave not to be," she continued, her tone sugar-sweet but her words laced with venom. "A poor, defenseless boy like you going into that arena, you ought to be scared. Terrified, even. It looks to me as though you won't last a minute."

She continued on in this manner until the boy looked completely broken, scared out of his wits. Peeta averted his eyes guiltily, fighting down his first instinct to go and comfort the kid. It wasn't the time for being the nice guy now. In this environment, nice was as good as synonymous for 'weak' and 'already dead'. He sighed, deciding to distract himself by looking around for his own biggest threat.

He was surprised to see that Cato was closer than he had thought, only a few paces away, leaning against the wall just behind him and positively growling at anyone who dared to glance in his direction. He met Peeta's inquisitive gaze with a stone cold one of his own then smirked threateningly as he pushed away from the wall, striding quickly towards the other boy.

"You," he snapped, but his eyes were focused on the small boy from 9 sitting at Peeta's right, who squeaked and froze in place as he realized that the other boy was addressing him. "Move." Cato commanded. The boy didn't, probably couldn't.

"I'm not gonna ask you twice," the Career told him before shoving him out of his place. The boy hit the floor with a dull thump, and Cato slipped into his chair before he even had time to scramble back up to his feet. "I need to sit here so I can talk to twelve," he told the boy. "Scram."

Glancing around, he noticed that Katniss had deserted him some time over the last few minutes. She was hovering on the other side of the room, away from the danger. A part of him couldn't believe she'd leave him to deal with this alone after all the help he gave her on the chariot. His fingers were still sore. Bitch.

"Missing your girlfriend already?" Cato taunted from beside him, and Peeta shrugged. He didn't want take the bait and play into whatever game the Career was trying to play with him. He couldn't allow himself to look weak like that, so instead he feigned nonchalance and continued to watch Katniss. She smiled at the young girl from 11 across the table.

"Hey," the Career beside him snapped angrily, slamming a palm down on the table and pulling Peeta's attention back towards him. "You look at me when I'm talking to you, do you understand?"

"Sure," Peeta agreed with a shrug, turning back to the other boy slowly and offering him a friendly smile. "Whatever makes you happy."

"You're not doing it to please me," Cato fumed beside him. "You're doing it because I told you to." This was clearly not the reaction that he was expecting from the other boy.

"Of course I am," Peeta assured him in the most patronizing tone he could muster before schooling his confidence to ask a question of his own. "Did you want something?"

The older boy looked perturbed by the question for a second, as if he wasn't expecting Peeta to actually participate in their conversation at all. He composed himself quickly, though. "Yes," he snapped back, "I wanted to congratulate you and your girlfriend on such an amazing entrance to the Games, and to remind you that you still don't have a chance of winning."

"Thank you, that's very kind. If you really believed that I don't have a chance of winning, though, you wouldn't be over here trying to convince me of it. You feel threatened, don't you?" Peeta raised a questioning eyebrow at him, and then cut him off before he had a chance to deny it. "Oh, and by the way, she," he gestured over to Katniss, "is _not_ my girlfriend."

Pushing his empty soup bowl away, he dismissed himself from their half-finished conversation as he rose to his feet. There was no point in wasting any more time there with Cato, not when he could be gathering information about the other Tributes like Haymitch had told him to. He strolled away, wandering over to a lonely looking girl and sitting down next to her with an easy smile, leaving a furious Career in his wake. Little did he know that he was the first person who had ever had the audacity to walk away when Cato was talking to them.

Cato was going to kill him.

* * *

Peeta knocked on Haymitch's room apprehensively. He had waited until Katniss had gone to bed before he sought out Haymitch: whatever the outcome of this, Katniss would either not need to know or not want to. There was a grunt of "One sec," before Haymitch popped his upper torso around the door. "Oh. It's you. What do you want?" He blearily looked at Peeta without stepping out from behind the frame. "It's midnight."

"I know," Peeta said, wringing his hands together, "It's just I need some advice. And you're the one to give it, right?" He laughed slightly derisively.

Haymitch inspected him with narrowed eyes. "Okay then kid. Let me put on some pants, and meet me in the kitchen. Make sure there's a coffee waiting."

* * *

Peeta sipped his hot chocolate anxiously for a few minutes before Haymitch sauntered in fully clothed (thankfully), and plonked himself down on the chair opposite Peeta.

"What's wrong then, boy? What is it that you couldn't tell me in front of our little ice princess, huh?"

Peeta didn't know where to begin. It was all such a blur, the makeover, the fire, the dinner and the words of warning from none other than Cato himself.

"Well, it's just...I'm struggling at deciding which... angle I should play." Peeta sighed, "I wanted to be a Career and all—I thought that would be my, you know, best chance of survival but... Well, they don't seem to like me all too much." Peeta recalled Cato's snarl as vividly as if that moment was happening again. He then remembered what else Cato had said and wrinkled his nose. "They also seem to think I like Katniss."

Haymitch stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Okay kid, tell me exactly what the Careers said to you."

Peeta relayed the information back to Haymitch from the edge of distress, finally allowing his head to just sink into his hands in despair. "What should I do?" came the muffled voice of the confused teenage boy. Haymitch started laughing.

"You really think the Careers don't like you because of _that_? Seriously kid, the Careers don't like anyone, it pretty much goes with the territory. A death threat from them is a good thing more than anything else. It represents them noticing you." He reached over to get a muffin and Peeta felt a few faint stirrings of hope.

"You can still get in with them, if you want to." With this he cupped the boy's chin in his hand and raised Peeta's head so he could look him directly in the eye. "You've got some good strength. I saw that. But was that the peak of it? Somehow I don't think so." He smiled ever so slightly before becoming serious, the mentor within him beginning to emerge. Peeta could tell that side of him had been worn away slowly by endless losses of the tributes he became close to. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was glad he was coaxing it out of him. Haymitch must really think he was worth saving.

"You're going to have to do some damn good lifting in training to convince them to ally with you. And hand to hand combat, if you can. Have you had any experience?"

"Um..." Peeta coughed awkwardly, "A little...?"

"Just tell me kid. It's not any use being modest or I won't know your actual skills."

"Well I won the wrestling competition at my school. I once fought a boy for hurting my friend and he went home with a broken jaw and nose."

"And you?"

"Not a scratch."

Haymitch stroked his chin again and laughed. "Well you had better get right on the case and show them what you can do. Stick with the things you're really good at when they're watching you. You have to gain their respect. But also, try and branch out a little in the other areas: brutal weaponry will attract the careers to you but you need to spend some time working on survival skills as well." He broke off, as if trying to figure out the perfect solution.

"Haymi-"

Haymitch held up a finger to silence him as he carried on thinking. But Peeta was scared, scared of the Careers for the first time and scared of the games. Scared that he would die before anyone else. That he would humiliate himself. What would he do if they didn't want him?

"I've got it." Haymitch grinned slyly. "What did you say they thought about you and Katniss?"

"That they thought I liked her, but-"

"Then play up to that. The sponsors will love it." He grinned at Peeta, his eyes calculating and dancing with mischief as the boy looked back at him doubtfully. "What I'm saying is, you should stick to Katniss when you're training your survival skills. From what I've heard about her, she can probably help you with that."

"She wouldn't agree to work with me," Peeta sighed, dismissing the idea quickly. Haymitch waved his hand as if to dismiss the boy's worries about this.

"Don't worry, I'll get her to agree. That way you can test out a few brutal weapons here and there, but only when the careers aren't looking at you too much. It doesn't matter if they notice you unless you're brilliant. If you're terrible it shouldn't matter too much because they're not expecting you to be anything special." He finished the last bite of his muffin. "But go into the middle whenever you feel confident enough and throw some weights around. Fight with assistants. Give them a show. Channel that inner diva, just like you did the other day. If you can impress me, you can impress them."

He winked at Peeta. "Just make sure they don't overlook you."

* * *

**A/N:** _Hi everyone and t__hank you all for reading! w__e're working pretty hard at this, so we'd love it if you left a review and__ let us know what you think!  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 3**

* * *

Peeta made his way to the breakfast table where Effie was sitting alone.

"Good morning, Peeta!" she all but clucked, beaming at him widely. Peeta was probably the first tribute to show her as much respect as he did, which was especially noticeable in contrast to the way Katniss treated her. "Are you _super_ excited for this big, big day ahead of you? You'd better eat up Peeta, you're going to be burning off _so _much energy today!"

Peeta smiled involuntarily. No matter how nervous, tired and irritable he felt, Effie always had some sort of warm, fluffy stupidity about her that was just kind of loveable.

"Morning Effie!" He raised his head so she could see his smile. "And yes, I'm ready, Haymitch and I had a chat about strategy last night." He was resolute about the strategy they had devised now that he had thought it over: Haymitch's plan was near if not perfect for what he wanted. "Speaking of which, where is he?"

"Well, you're not the only tribute from District 12, Peeta!" She trilled. "He's having a strategy meeting with Katniss right about now, in fact!"

Well, this was understandable. Peeta laughed inwardly as he thought of what Haymitch must be saying to convince Katniss to act almost like his friend while they were training to help him along in his mission to join the Careers.

It was weird, even now, for him to imagine himself in the Careers. They were hated by all of the Districts but their own: their illegal training angered everyone, but it was the Hunger Games and this was simply how they were played. That was the system, and it had to be accepted, just like he had to accept that joining them was his only chance of survival. He bit his lip.

Effie must have noticed, as she shot him a sympathetic smile and in a sudden bout of affection tottered toward him and half hugged his shoulders. Peeta turned round and returned the hug – Effie was a character that relied upon gestures such as these to gain trust and respect, and Peeta liked her too much to deny her of them. Her clucking manner reminded him of a mother figure.

"Peeta, I'm sure with a start like you had last night you've already impressed everyone _incredibly!_" She squeezed his shoulders before she released him and smiled. "I'd suggest you get ready soon though," She began to walk away as she called "It wouldn't do to be late after making such a good first impression!" She shuddered at the thought as she exited the room.

Alone, Peeta picked a little more at some fruit. He knew he should eat but the nervous butterflies that flew around in his stomach were back with a vengeance, threatening to overturn it, so instead he focused on the fruit itself and the unnatural Capitol look they had about them; the sickly bright yellow of the banana, the vivid green of the apple. The blood red of the berries.

He threw down his fork with a clatter and shivered in anticipation. He let his head fall into his hands as he rubbed his temple, a clear sign of stress to anyone that knew him. He hated having to act so differently to everyone, but it was so essential that he did if he wanted to get anywhere in the arena.

He thanked Haymitch mentally for their plan, even if it meant he would have to cosy up to Katniss. He couldn't be anything other than grateful because at least it still involved the Careers. No matter what Cato threatened him with, he wouldn't back down and be scared away from them. He couldn't, not when he was still determined to do whatever it took to stay alive.

* * *

"Peeta," Katniss said quietly to him as they opened the door to the training centre. "Which station are we going to first?" She looked lost, confused, as if she really needed him to tell her what to do and where she was going. He wondered when it was she began to rely upon him to make all the decisions for them. Maybe he shouldn't have shown so much kindness to her in the Chariot.

"We'll go to the fire station first. I don't know about you, but after that I think I'll give some of the weaponry a go." He was itching to try his hand with some of the more brutal weapons, though he didn't know why. She nodded, accepting this without question and they walked over to the station together in silence until Peeta noticed the way her eyes were burning holes in his skull.

"What?" He asked irritably. She faltered, and he saw the nerves from the other night threaten to make a re-appearance. He decided that he had to be cruel to help her.

"Listen." He gruffed in a low voice and grabbed her wrists. "I don't know where this little frightened girl has come from but she needs to be swallowed up. You need to snap out of it. Katniss, this is the _Hunger Games_. If you don't stop acting so god damn weak then it's not just your life on the line, it's mine."

The girl looked ashamed, and then nodded her head in assent. She took a deep breath and managed to hold herself slightly straighter. Peeta nodded in approval, offering her a small smile, and they sat down at the station quietly to learn about making fire.

* * *

By the time they had built a few fires, Peeta noticed he had become rather adept at it. That being said, he was still not as good as Katniss. She seemed to be in her element, as if she were back in the forests she was so infamous for hunting in. After a while, she noticed him watching her.

"You know," she said casually, "I might come and give the weapons a go, if you don't mind." She lowered her voice a little. "Haymitch told me to steer clear of archery though, he said that I'm not to go showing off my special skills."

At this she laughed somewhat nervously, not quite making eye contact with him as they spoke. Was she scared of him? Peeta considered this for a moment, realising that a part of him hoped she was. Of course he did. He knew that if he could scare this girl, the one who had been so intimidating when they had first met, then he could scare anyone. But why was she scared? Perhaps she had seen how easily he had handled the crowd and Cato the night before and realised that he wasn't as weak as she had originally thought?

He pondered this for a moment before remembering that they were supposed to be playing a lovers dynamic.

"Okay," he agreed, climbing back to his feet and chivalrously offering her a hand up. She smiled at him meekly as he pulled her to her feet. "Don't be surprised if I act...differently." He paused, wondering how much he should tell her. "Haymitch's orders, you know?" he confided, settling on saying the bare minimum. "How about we head over?" He scanned the room, eyes landing on a station that had recently been vacated by Clove, Cato's district partner from 2. "To the knives. Come on."

When they got there, the assistant greeted them both and congratulated them on 'winning' their reaping. Katniss stared at her incredulously, wondering how it could possibly be considered as a good thing in anyone's mind. Beside her, Peeta grinned back at her widely, trying to assert some of the self-confidence he was attempting to mimic from Cato. "Thank you! It's such an honour to be here, doing what I love and fighting for my District. I mean, if I hadn't have been picked, I think I'd have probably volunteered!"

He spoke louder than usual, hoping to unnerve some of the nearby tributes. He then placed an arm around Katniss' waist, angling her body so that she was standing between him and the Careers, just to make sure they wouldn't see how potentially bad he would be at this. Better safe than sorry.

* * *

So far, Peeta decided he was mediocre at knives, managing to hit some part of the target almost every time but not having any sort of accuracy about his aim other than that. He was bad to the point of terrible with spears, and Peeta decided that maybe throwing simply wasn't the best tactic for him: he would probably be better armed with a knife to simply aid him in hand to hand combat. Speaking of combat, he hadn't yet had a chance to try out the swords. This was due to the fact that the Careers monopolized that station. However, he thought that the Careers had probably seen his disastrous attempt at handling the spear – which nearly collided with his foot – and so decided it was the time to show them his worth.

"Katniss." She snapped her head round to look at him. "Why don't you go and tie some knots? I'll join you there when I'm done at that station." He nodded his head over to the combat station. She agreed easily and walked away. He was pleased to note that although she wasn't arrogant, she was exuding a quiet confidence, which Peeta had been slowly trying to build all day. Hey, if he didn't win he'd rather she did. That would be better for his family back at home.

A slight, thin tribute from 8 was trying her hardest at the combat station already as Peeta sauntered over. He felt the first stab of niceness as he found himself wanting to go and comfort her where she struggled with the heavy weapons, but instead thought of how the Careers would act. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin up arrogantly as he began to laugh quietly at the girls poor attempt at fighting. When her eyes nervously met his own he spoke to her softly.

"Don't worry sweetheart. If I get to you first, I'll make sure to make it not _too _painful." He lifted his lips into a sad, mocking smile, before continuing. "Although I'm not sure whether you'll even make it two metres away from your podium." She ducked her head down and Peeta felt hugely guilty as he saw her eyes sparkling with tears. He kept the mocking grin on his face though, even as she ran away. He felt the attention of everyone in the room on him and knew that now was not the time to let his guard down.

"What?" He called after her retreating back. "Was it something I said?"

Peeta laughed shortly and cruelly before turning to the trainer who, after an apprehensive pause, began to talk about techniques. "Don't bother." Peeta smiled. "I consider myself to be good enough to not have to listen to your..." He sized the trainer up, taking in his build and estimating his weak points "...Tips. Feel free to begin whenever you're ready." He smiled challengingly at the trainer before relaxing easily into a classic defensive pose.

The trainer hesitated, and Peeta raised his eyebrows at him mockingly, knowing that no fighting man could resist a challenge. He was right. Within a minute the trainer was nodding sharply in assent and rushing at him, but Peeta easily dodged the punch to the gut the man was aiming for, before deflecting the next one that was aimed at his shoulder. He grabbed the man's right wrist and twisted it around his back before delivering a blow to his gut with the other fist. He then grabbed both of the man's arms and held them together whilst darting around the man's back, keeping his struggles back easily.

Such a strong man looked almost weak and weedy held back tightly in Peeta's even stronger arms. As a finale, he lifted the trainer over his shoulder and swung him onto the (admittedly, soft) mats below, leaving the man thoroughly winded. By this stage the trainer was bright red in the face, from either shame or over exertion. He rose quickly, and simply struck a defensive pose, this time waiting for Peeta to attack again.

Peeta smirked as he knew the rest of the room were still paying attention to him. He ran at the older man and punched him in the neck softly (he wouldn't want to do him any permanent damage now, would he?) and grabbed the trainer's head between his palms. This was the moment when it was over for the other man. In this position, with nothing more than a twist of his wrists, Peeta could snap his neck. The trainer realised this, but instead of simply giving up, his breath quickened in fear.

Peeta felt heady with power. He had a man's life dancing beneath his fingertips and he was only slightly ashamed to accept the thrill he got from it. Perhaps he'd fit in with the Careers better than anyone had ever thought.

"Don't worry." Peeta smirked, releasing him. "You're not going into the arena with me."

With that, Peeta turned round and surveyed the other tributes who were all watching him in either fear or admiration. "Are you scared?" He asked of them, winking, noticing that even Katniss seemed to be looking at him in awestruck horror.

He quickly shifted his eyes to the far corner where the Careers stood, wanting to see if he had left the desired impression on the main audience he had been targeting. He quickly inspected each of their expressions. Clove looked impressed, Marvel simply jealous, and with Glimmer he detected a slight trace of fear, which only made him smile wider and gave him the confidence to look Cato in the eye.

As usual, Cato was watching him coldly, an almost-blank expression on his face, but Peeta saw something in his eyes which told him that he was angry. With one last smirk, Peeta turned again to address the whole room before announcing: "Don't get me wrong, I like the attention." He looked around, "But you might want to consider getting on with your own activities. You don't want to be unprepared in the arena, right?"

He smiled again before walking over to Katniss at the rope-tying station. She looked at him as if she was finally beginning to see some of Peeta's ploy…

Or maybe it was a little more of his true character.

* * *

His muscles ached and his throat felt parched and dry, skin covered in a light sheen of sweat as he flopped down onto the hard wooden chair beside Katniss. "Hi," she said and smiled at him toothily, the chicken she was eating hanging out of her mouth in a grotesquely unattractive manner. Peeta wondered where she'd learned to devour food like such an animal.

"Hey," he replied, helping himself to a small loaf of bread and a large glass of water. "I'm tired."

"I'm not surprised," came a voice from behind him, followed by a lanky ginger girl with a long, pinched face slinking into view. "I was watching you back in there and I've got to say, I'm impressed. You're so strong and hard working!"

He blinked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat when she sat down beside him, just a little too close for comfort. Was it normal for Tributes to compliment each other? "Uh… Thanks, I guess?" He mumbled, attempting to smile at her.

"You're welcome. Hey, do you work out?" She placed one of her palms on his bicep, squeezing it slightly. "Wow, you're so fit, you must have worked so hard to get a body like this…"

"No, I—uh, I'm just a baker. I bake cakes."

He could feel himself flushing, torn between knocking her hand aside and pretending to be unfazed by it. At present, the former was winning. Beside him, Katniss was obviously biting back a giggle behind her hand. He shot her a silent plea for help as the other girl began to stroke her fingers up and down the exposed skin on his arm. But, like the bitch she was, she ignored him.

"Are you a virgin?" the girl asked him suddenly, her face hovering just inches from his own. He spluttered, pushing his chair back and scrambling away from her. Screw trying to look cool, he wasn't going to just sit there and be molested. "It's okay if you are," she told him reassuringly, clearly not getting the message as she closed the gap between them once again. "I can help you out, if you'd like me—"

"Shut up, Foxface. He isn't interested," quipped a familiar sounding voice from nearby, carrying an amused looking Cato with the rest of the Careers close in tow. They trailed along behind him a little uncertainly, but followed nonetheless. "Haven't you heard that Loverboy here is already spoken for?"

"What?" She looked affronted by the allegation. "No he isn't. How would you even know that?"

"Yes, he is. He told me he's with that wildcat over there." Cato gestured between Peeta and Katniss, punctuating it with a wink. The girl in question's eyes snapped up, glaring at Peeta accusingly. He panicked, silently pleading with her not to blow their cover. Oblivious to all of this, Cato continued on with his little speech. "While he may like the animalistic type, there's a good chance that doesn't include you. No one likes rodents, Foxface."

Beside him, Glimmer picked up on the obvious pun he used on Katniss' name about three lines too late and burst into a fit of hysterical giggles, as if it were the wittiest thing she'd ever heard. Come to think of it, it probably was. Everyone he'd ever met from District 1 seemed to have been born and raised an airhead. Cato turned to her, glare in place. "Shut up."

Foxface's eyes locked on to Peeta with a hurt expression, a look that did not sit particularly well on her already-pinched features. "Is that true?"

"Of course it's true, Foxface. It's true because I told you it is. Are you calling me a liar?"

"I'm not calling you anything. You're the one who keeps calling me Foxface! That's not even my name, my name is—"

"No one cares, Foxface." Cato cut her off, glaring down at her meanly. "Now, stop pestering the other Tributes and get back to whatever pit of hell you and your satanic hair crawled out from." The girl looked upset, but she had the sense to scamper away. Peeta didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

Cato was watching him closely, and Peeta couldn't help but wonder why the other boy had intervened. He had no reason to, except perhaps to taunt the other girl, but that seemed unlikely to him. As a rule, Careers did not tend to mix with any Tributes for any other purpose. Would he really go so far out of his way just to do that?

"You two lovebirds are awfully quiet," sneered Clove, the girl from District 2, pulling Peeta's attention back to the present. "Something on your minds?"

"No." Katniss surprised him when she spoke up from beside him. He had expected her to leave him to defend himself alone once again. "We were just waiting for you to leave, actually. We have some things to discuss. If you'll excuse us…" She rose to her feet, grabbing Peeta by the wrist and all but dragging him out of room.

"Ooh, I bet they're going to make out!" Glimmer giggled to Marvel as she watched them go. The other boy nodded enthusiastically, his overly loud laugh filling the room.

"Shut up." Cato snapped from beside them.

Katniss rounded on him as soon as they were out of earshot, slamming a palm against his chest with surprising force. Peeta flinched back. "What the hell was that?" she demanded, eyes ablaze with fury. "Why would you tell him we're together?"

"I didn't!" the boy insisted. "He just assumed we were together after he saw you hanging off my arm on that stupid chariot! I tried to tell him we aren't, but he wouldn't listen to me. It's not my fault! If anyone's to blame, it's you for being such a weakling!"

"Oh really? So why didn't you deny it back there, then?"

He sighed. He hadn't wanted to tell her his game plan so soon. In fact, he hadn't wanted to tell her at all, but he supposed it couldn't be helped now. Thinking fast, he decided to give her the thinnest version of the truth he could manage. "I was just listening to Haymitch. He told me to play up to the fact that Cato thinks I like you. I… I'm not sure why, but he's our mentor. I have to listen to him."

The scowl didn't quite fade from Katniss' lips, but she took a step back from him and nodded to show her understanding. "You should have just told me that in the first place," she grumbled. "If we're meant to be act like we're together, you could at least have the decency to tell me about it."

"I know," he replied. "I'm sorry. I guess you should just be glad I'm not your real lover, right?"

"Yeah." She laughed at that. "You'd definitely be a lousy one."

* * *

**A/N: **_Hello everyone! We'd just like to thank you all for reading and subscribing and reviewing. We weren't expecting this story to even have readers, so it really is exciting for us! We are working on updating as often as we can, so we hope you'll stick around. Also, please don't be afraid to leave us a review! We'd love to hear what you guys think.  
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	4. Chapter 4

**Know Your E****nemy - Chapter 4**

* * *

The rest of the day at training passed with no events of any particular importance. However, the Careers did focus on spreading out this time, reclaiming the fear from all other tributes that Peeta had momentarily stole from them.

When Haymitch ushered them into the dining room early, Peeta was eager to tell his mentor about the progress he had made in terms of meeting – or maybe, in his case, exceeding – the Careers' expectations.

"So?" Haymitch looked between the two tributes expectantly.

Peeta smiled as he began. "I think it went well, considerably so... it's probably safe to say I made an impression." He felt Katniss shift awkwardly beside him. "I did what you said and learned some things about rope-tying and fires and all..." He speared a piece of chicken with his fork. "And I tried my hand at knife-throwing..." He chewed the food as the thought it over. "I guess I wasn't too bad. It's definitely not my forte though." He ate some more before laughing. "Spears...that went absolutely terribly. I was afraid that people may have noticed that though, so I decided to engage in some hand to hand combat."

With this he grinned widely, and Haymitch's eyes glinted in anticipation. "Oh yeah?" He smirked. "So how were you?"

Peeta began with a "Well, I-" before Katniss cut him off.

"He was...scary." She confessed. "Even I was intimidated. I think most of the other tributes were too, especially the one that you made cry." She rose her eyes to meet his. "The way you laughed at her and the trainer, how you asked everyone so confidently if they were scared of you…" She dipped her head again and muttered, "He could've been a Career."

Obviously Katniss didn't know about any of the plan then. Peeta frowned. So what had Haymitch even told her in the strategy meetings apart from to steer clear of archery? He shrugged slightly. It didn't matter, he mused. The less she knew about Peeta's game, the better.

"Well, isn't that interesting?" Haymitch seemed to be struggling to keep his expression serious. "And how did you do, sweetheart?"

This seemed to trigger a memory in Katniss. "Well, I found out from the monstrous boy from 2 that apparently it is Peeta who should be calling me 'sweetheart'. What's that all about?" She glared at Haymitch, her icy manner still intact with him, at least. Peeta felt vaguely envious. At least he didn't have to pretend he liked her.

Rolling his eyes, Haymitch began to convince her of the good points involved in the plan. Peeta stood up. He'd heard this already, and didn't have any interest to hear it again. He went to go and get Effie – he felt like he could use a chat which didn't involve him not having to act like someone he wasn't, and Effie was so much like a mother to him it was easy for him to act himself around her.

As ever, Effie was delighted to see him, He smiled easily at her as she fluttered around him, grooming his hair into a 'better' position before finally sitting down next to him on a plush leather sofa. She smiled at him, asked him how he was, and he wanted to tell her that he was great. But Peeta didn't feel all too good.

"Effie..." He began, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. She looked at him, concerned. "I'm starting to hate having to play a game all the time." He sighed. "I know it's the best way to ensure my survival - I mean, I thought of this whole game..." She nodded and patted his back, urging him on. "It's just hard having to keep up appearances, you know?" He sighed again.

"The only reason I'm doing all of this is that I can't bear the thought of dying. That I'd just be here one day and gone the next... like a passing wind or sudden change of weather." His voice went quieter and he felt like a child as he muttered plainitively "I don't want to die, Effie." He looked up at her, tears sparking at his eyes. She wiped a tear from her own eye before she stroked his cheek.

"Peeta, you'll be fine." He looked at her incredulously and she went on. "I know that you're strong, Well, at least that's what I've heard." She smiled at him again in attempt to cheer him up. "Also, as you might hate to hear it and I might hate to admit it, Haymitch... he's got some good ideas, and I think he really wants to help you. Just as I do." She hugged him. "Peeta, you're going to have to keep playing these games but we're going to get you home. Between the three of us, we will. I promise."

Maybe Effie wasn't as shallow-minded as he once thought. He was so glad that he gave himself the opportunity to get to know her, thanking himself for it as he relaxed into her embrace.

* * *

Peeta was excited as he stepped into the training centre the following day. He gazed around the room, noticing all the stations he had not tried yet. He was itching to try out all of the ones that he had previously overlooked. Katniss, for the most part, was quieter than usual. Peeta was tired of swinging back and forth within their uneasy truce, but he swallowed the irritation down in favour of playing to the Sponsors' and Tributes' idea that he and Katniss were, if not actually together, then close friends at least and followed her to the edible plants station, where an older woman stood to teach them about plants to finally test them on their knowledge.

Katniss breezed through the plants test without even blinking, a clear result of her time in the woods. For the first time, Peeta felt a stab of envy towards Katniss at the girl's superiority in this area. He quickly changed stations to save face, heading her over to the shelter building station. Of course, Katniss followed him.

For the most part, she kept herself quiet, at least until she the little girl there, Rue, the twelve year old who constantly seemed to be scampering around behind Katniss. She became steadily more lively and animated as they began to interact, smiling and laughing with the younger girl as if they were friends, not opponents.

At around eleven o' clock, Peeta decided that she was capable of being left on her own for a while. He stepped up to decide which station to visit and scanned the room. The Careers had gone for the same tactic they had used yesterday afternoon: splitting up to cover all bases. In the corner, Foxface was trying her hand at knives. A boy from five was desperately trying to master the bow and arrow, with seemingly poor results. The only stations completely empty were the sword station and the weightlifting. He thought of how much he wanted to try the swords yesterday and nodded to himself, making his mind up easily. He would save weightlifting for a special occasion.

As he turned to leave, Peeta waved a quick goodbye to Katniss. She only glanced up briefly, nodding in acknowledgement before returning to her oh-so-fascinating conversation with Rue.

Shaking his head at her stupidity, he ambled his way over to the sword station on the other side of the room towards the hard, sharp metal instruments that hung from the rack. He only got halfway there before he sensed someone following him, from a distance at first but gradually edging closer until finally a smallish hand was placed on his arm. He spun around slowly, and wasn't all too surprised when he saw Clove at his elbow. As soon as he noticed her presence, she removed her hand. No flirting from her, then. This made him heave a sigh of relief inwardly.

"Hello… it's Peeta, isn't it?" She seemed to size him up, evaluating his worth as he nodded. After a moment she nodded back, almost imperceptibly. "Where are you headed?"

He considered for a second. She had most probably approached him to get more of an idea of who he was and how much use he could be to her. He bit his lip nervously then quickly released it, just in case she read his old nervous habit as a sign of weakness. Perhaps this was his opportunity to get in with the Careers, and he couldn't afford to screw up. What would be the best way to impress her?

"It was between the swords and the weights." He left the decision up to her.

"Well, thanks to Cato I've already had too much practice at that damned sword station." She grimaced. "By now I think it's safe to say that it's really not my type of weapon... But maybe I could use some weight-lifting." She smiled before asking in a faux-polite tone, "Would you mind if I joined you over there?"

She had asked him as if it were a question, but it was clear that she was totally confident in his answer, as if she knew that there was no chance that he'd say no to her. She was right, of course. Who would be stupid enough to turn her down? She was a Career. You don't just join them, you have to be invited; no one takes their invitations lightly. Even so, he pretended to consider for a moment, silently sizing her up.

"I guess it would be okay." He let an edge of arrogance creep into his voice. "But you'll have to promise that you won't be upset when I show you how much better I am than you are." He winked at her as he turned to head over to the station.

* * *

Letting the heavy metal boulder drop out of his sweat-slicked palm and onto the soft ground below, Peeta stretched both of his arms out above his head with a loud sigh. The vertebrae in his spine seemed to click back into place one by one, unlocking themselves from their tense stature.

Beside him, Clove raised an eyebrow. "Are you tired already, Loverboy?" she teased him gently, left slightly breathless from where a heavy iron pole was still balanced across her nimble shoulders. They had been getting on far better than he had expected them to, a comfortable silence settling over them as each of them trained with only the occasional comment or jibe flying back and forth.

"Not really." He shrugged back. "I have to go and pee, though. You know, nature calls and all that."

Clove seemed unfazed by this declaration. "Whatever. Just make sure you don't go where I can see you." She laughed dismissively, turning away from him as if she expected him to just let loose on the spot. He blinked back at her, utterly bemused.

"Wait, what? I wasn't planning to go right here! That would be weird. I just meant that I was heading over to the restrooms."

"Oh, right." She smiled at him over her shoulder. "Back home, when the guys say they need to pee during training it usually means 'avert your eyes now or get an eyeful of genitalia'. We don't have much time for toilet breaks."

She'd been telling him little things about District 2 as they trained, just small and insignificant things like that. Although Peeta knew that he was under her careful scrutiny the whole time, he couldn't help relaxing a little in her presence. He liked her. She was simple, straightforward, easy to read, friendly and threatening all at the same time. It was nice to know that there was someone here that he could have a civil conversation with and still know that he'd be willing to kill them when the time came.

"Yet people see the outlying Districts as the uncivilised ones… If only they knew." Peeta feigned a wistful sigh, grinning at Clove when she laughed. "Seriously, though, my bladder feels like it's about to burst, I've gotta go. See you later!"

He waved to her as he jogged away, a pleased feeling settling in his stomach when she waved back.

* * *

In hindsight, he realised that perhaps he shouldn't have refused the help of the Trainer who had offered to guide him to the Tribute's bathroom. After relieving himself, he had managed to waste a good fifteen minutes roaming the corridors in search of the correct path back to the Training room.

By the time he finally made it back there, he was disappointed to note that Clove was no longer standing by the weightlifting station. Instead she had taken her place beside Cato and the rest of the Careers once again. They stood in a huddle on the far side of the room, not far from the deserted edible insects station. After a brief moment of consideration, Peeta decided to head over to them.

He strolled over casually, not even looking at them as he began to talk to the Trainer at the station. The woman seemed to be delighted that she had finally found a Tribute who expressed any desire to learn about her bugs. Before he had time to blink, she was pulling him towards a cabinet full of dried insects, enthusing about each of them with an alarming amount of passion. Luckily for him, this took him a few precious steps closer to the Careers and he smiled at the woman gratefully as she described the 'soft, crunchy taste' that one of her favourite specimens offered. He quickly tuned her out, merely nodding in the right places and pretending to look interested while really, he focused his attention on the conversation to his right.

Clove's voice was the loudest, carrying over to him easily. "Cato, stop being ridiculous. Just because you don't like him, doesn't mean he wouldn't be useful to us in the arena…"

At this, the blond boy glared at Clove accusingly. "No, he wouldn't be useful to us in the arena! He can't do anything apart from throw a few things around. So what? Anyone could do that. I could do that. We don't need him."

They were talking about him. Peeta looked straight ahead at the shrivelled remains of the insects, a desperate attempt to keep his emotions in check. They were actually talking about him, he couldn't believe it. Their plan was actually working. He hoped desperately that no one could see the faint traces of a smile that tugged upwards at the corners of his lips.

"He's right," Glimmer declared after a moment, smiling at Cato adoringly. He ignored her, acting like she hadn't even spoken, but for some reason she didn't even look slightly perturbed by his dismissal. "I'm with Cato on this one," she clarified.

"We heard you the first time and yes, of course you are." Clove snorted, somewhat disgusted by the other girl and her pathetic attempts to capture Cato's attention. It was pointless. He was there to fight, not to flirt. "Look, Cato, all I'm saying is that you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss the idea he could help us. You saw him fight that trainer, and I know you were impressed. You should at least consider it as an option, you know that."

"But Clove, I…"

"Would you like to try a bite?" the weird bug lady suddenly piped up from next to him, waving a skewer of colourful looking cockroaches under his nose. He recoiled slightly in surprise, shaking his head quickly. He'd forgotten that he was supposed to be learning over here, too transfixed by the Careers. Oblivious to his lack of attention, the woman still brandished the bugs, a hopeful smile stretched wide across her face. He considered for a moment, not wanting to disappoint her, but they looked rancid. There was no way that he could bring himself eat those.

"Maybe… maybe later? I'm not feeling too hungry right now, and I wouldn't want to train on a bloated stomach." He made his excuses easily, pretending to be disappointed that he couldn't eat the snack she offered to him. The woman gave an understanding nod, seeming convinced as she set the skewer back down before turning back to her glass display, instantly launching into a rant about some sort of genetically modified grasshopper. He tuned her out again.

"…Get the hell off me, Glitter!" he heard Cato snap, ignoring her when she corrected his mistake over her name. Glancing in their direction, he had to try not to laugh as he watched the bulky boy push the girl away with an indignant huff. "Did I tell you that you could touch me?" He demanded angrily. She shook her head. "Then keep your damn hands to yourself!" he snapped.

Clove laughed and Peeta sighed, realising the conversation had moved on without him ever finding out the verdict on whether or not Cato would accept him. Briskly excusing himself from the station, he strode back to Katniss' side. He couldn't help feeling a little dejected. "Let's get lunch."

"Okay, fine. Wait a minute while I finish this off." She looped a piece of string back around itself in a complicated fashion, creating a small noose that she then twisted tighter. Peeta frowned as he watched her, barely able to follow her movements as she created a complex knot in the rope.

He let his mind drift back to the conversation he had previously overheard, running back over the most important things he learnt. Clove wanted him in with the Careers. He was a little surprised by this. He hadn't expected any of them to take to him so quickly, but she had. That being said, Cato still didn't like him. This was hardly noteworthy news, though. The other boy had made his issues with Peeta pretty clear from the very start.

As for Glimmer, she appeared to Peeta to be nothing more than a dizzy-eyed bimbo who hung from Cato's every word, no matter how moronic they were. He wondered what her skill would be in the arena because so far, he saw none of the real strength in her that the other Careers seemed to have. Maybe her and Foxface could team up and flirt people into an early grave between two of them, he thought with a snigger.

"Something funny?" Katniss asked, snapping him back to the present as she rose to her feet and wiped her messy palms on her trouser leg. He shook his head and she rolled her eyes, not even bothering to pursue the matter. "You coming?" she directed to Rue, who still sat on the floor by the knotting station.

"No, that's okay, I'm fine enough here. I'll let you two be alone." She shot the two of them a suggestive smile as she said this. Rumours sure do spread fast. Peeta sighed. In all the excitement, he had almost forgotten the other side of the plan, the part where he and Katniss were supposed to be star-crossed lovers.

With a sugar-sweet smile to cover up his bitter resentment, he reached over and laced their fingers together, leading her towards the canteen to get lunch. Katniss looked nervous at this but she didn't resist. He had left her no real choice. How could she resist without breaking their illusion when every pair of eyes in the room followed their progress out of the door?

A lone wolf whistle rang out from the Careers' corner, followed by a giggle, probably a product of Cato's dull wit and Glimmer's desperation. Letting his eyes scan over them quickly in an attempt to confirm his suspicions, his eyes accidentally locked with Clove's. She shot him a quick wink as he walked by and he smiled at her. He felt so much more confident now that he knew she was on his side, now that she was there to help him win over Cato.

Maybe this small sense of alliance would dwindle and die as soon as they set foot in the arena, perhaps even sooner but… Well. She was on his side at least for now.

It made him feel like he could survive.

* * *

**A/N: **_Hello to all of our readers-thank you so much for the lovely reviews and constructive criticism we've got-it's really helped us continue to write. If you could continue doing so, it would be fantastic! Thanks for reading._


	5. Chapter 5

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 5**

* * *

"Remember, Peeta, you can't let the Gamemakers ignore you. You're one of the last ones up, and they might be distracted by the time you get there. You're probably going to get irritated." Haymitch grimaced at an old memory. "Crane's a fair man, though, he should give you a reasonable score. You just have to show them respect whilst making sure they notice you. You have to give them something special or you won't get the good score that is essential to work with the Careers. Good luck, kid."

Haymitch's words echoed around his head as he nervously tapped his foot on the hard concrete floor beneath him, waiting anxiously for the Gamemakers to call on him for his turn.

The day had passed in a blink of an eye: he hadn't had enough time to prepare for this. He needed to impress the Careers and he could only do that if he had a good score. What if he messed up? What if he got it all wrong and made a fool of himself, landing himself with a score like 5? Then even Clove would be unwilling to accept him readily, if at all. Even though she might make allowances, Marvel probably wouldn't and Cato... well, he's the one Peeta was trying the hardest to impress. As for the the blonde girl, she would just agree to whatever Cato said. If this went wrong, that would be all four of them against him.

Glimmer really was stupid, Peeta mused. He could easily make a better Career than Glimmer.

Marvel had approached him in training today. Perhaps this was only because Clove had told him to, but whatever the reason, the outcome was still favourable. Marvel had been impressed with Peeta's ability to light a fire, being pretty much inept at it himself. Peeta had expected that - from what Clove had told him, the Careers' training schedule didn't leave much room for learning basic survival skills. Maybe that would give him the edge in terms of joining them.

Peeta was so nervous he couldn't even bring himself to speak to his District 12 counterpart. She must have felt the same, though. She always got nervous. When Peeta looked up at her, he noticed that she had a delicate tinge of green staining her cheek.

"Peeta Mellark." The automated voice rang out suddenly and he jumped. Clearing his dry throat, he stood up shakily before inhaling a couple of deep breaths. He could do this. He exhaled deeply as he puffed out his chest ever so slightly. If he wasn't confident, he at least had to act it. When he got to the door he spun around to Katniss. He didn't know what made him say it, but he wished her a quid "Good luck," before opening the door and slipping into the training center.

As he walked into the room (quickly, as he only had fifteen minutes to prove himself) he heard the raucous laughter of the seemingly drunk gamemakers. Now he understood what Haymitch said about not getting angry; Peeta found himself seething. How dare they not pay attention to him? After all the hard work Peeta had put into this plan to stay alive, it would all be useless if they didn't pay attention to him. This was crucial.

He forced himself to swallow his feelings and act pleasantly. Fine, he thought. If they wanted to ignore him, he'd use this time to practice for a couple of minutes. That way he could show them later exactly why they should be paying attention to him.

He practically ran to the training dummies and picked up a knife, beginning to experiment with one in faux-combat, swinging the knife wildly to see just how much damage he could do. Upon inspection, he hadn't done a bad job. If the guy were real, he would have certainly been fatally injured. Then, running through his options, he decided quickly what show he was going to put on in his next ten minutes.

Then he sauntered over to stand right in front of the Gamemakers.

"Excuse me." He said politely, an attempt to show respect. None of them turned round. He waited a few seconds before trying again. "I said," Peeta raised his voice to a shout. "Excuse me!"

Every head at the table turned, and he noticed Seneca Crane surveying him with interest. It was unheard of for tributes to interrupt and try and converse with the Gamemakers, the people who could change his odds, his life and his fate with just one number.

"Thank you. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd prefer it if you were to actually watch me in the pathetic ten-minute slot you allotted me - you wouldn't want to misjudge the next victor now, would you?" He smiled at them cockily and a few of them, Crane in particular, laughed a little.

"I'm sure we wouldn't. Go ahead." Seneca Crane's lips turned upwards at the ends as he spoke. He arranged his fingers into V-shape before propping his chin upon them. He looked interested, intrigued even, like he ready to watch whatever show Peeta was about to perform for them.

The boy walked over to the dummies again, allowing a slight swagger to influence his step. He reached the station and picked up three knives at once, slipping one into his pocket for easy access. He prepared himself to be able to aim accurately at the dummies' most vital 'organs' before he launched into attack, letting a snarl creep out between his lips as he twisted the neck of one dummy before entering his knife deep into the others skull. He kicked out with his left foot as he would to a human, which would have weakened their stance as he slammed into its knee and drove his knife into its neck, before sending a knife through the final dummy's chest.

Three slaughtered dummies lay broken on the floor.

He smirked triumphantly down at them then walked to the weights section, wondering how much time he had left. The gamemakers were still silent, he was pleased to note. But then, how could they not be? Peeta had even had the audacity to speak with the Head Gamemaker.

A part of him began to wonder if he'd gone too far, but Haymitch had told him that the man was fair. Maybe this would work to his advantage. He shook his head slightly to clear them of worrying thoughts and grinned up at the table once more.

"Keep watching, because I'd say this might just swing the eleven over to a twelve." He laughed arrogantly, and picked up the second heaviest ball, one that he had seen Cato struggle with a couple of days ago. The thought made him laugh. He guessed Cato was a bit weaker than him.

He easily picked up another in the other hand and swung them around above his head, getting a feel for the weight of them and allowing his muscles to lock into place before launching them to the other side of the room, where they collided with the paints at the camouflage station and sent them flying, a rainbow of colours splattering across the walls.

"Sorry." He smirked up at the Gamemakers, his tone making it clear he wasn't apologetic at all, before lifting up the heaviest weight available, which even the trainer had been apprehensive about using. It didn't cause him too much trouble, but he felt a slight ache in his arm as he began to swing it in his right hand. He let it swing for a moment, testing it's capacity and getting used to the dull ache that came from holding such a heavy object between his fingers. All in all, it was quite easy for Peeta. He'd lifted heavier weights at the bakery before now.

He targeted the ceiling in the farthest corner of the room from where he was stood now as his goal. He narrowed his eyes and inhaled deeply. This was one shot he could not afford to miss.

With one last swing of the ball, Peeta spun around before launching it at the spot he had aimed for. He stood straight, as he was before, and ignored the impulse to massage his arm until he saw it hit the mark exactly. The huge metal spikes that circled the edge of the ball caused it to stick up there momentarily before finally crashing down, emphasising its weight as it made a slight dent in the hard floor.

He grinned proudly towards the Gamemakers, only hesitating slightly before he enquired, "How much time do I have left?"

Seneca Crane pulled out his pocket watch. "Four and a half minutes." They were interested to see what he could do next.

Peeta found that he was too, if he was honest.

After a moment of deliberation, he decided to show them his best talent. Maybe it wasn't his most impressive one, but he was the best at this. Heading over to the scattered remains of the camouflage station, he began to work with the debris that was there. Adding swirls of colour, he began to paint a kaleidoscope of greens and browns on his arm, mixing with deep oranges and whites.

This was therapeutic to him. It reminded him of the solace he earned when he was allowed to decorate the cakes at home with no one to interrupt him, just him alone with his frosting. He worked quickly, glancing up every now and again at the tree that had been provided for inspiration at the camouflage station for anyone that was bothered with it, trying not to smile too hard at the outcome. He was just about done.

"I know that probably wasn't the impressive grand finale you were all hoping for." He announced, smiling at them before he continued. "But I think we've already established that I'm a good fighter and I am going to be able to kill and harm others easily in the arena." He punctuated the statement with a pointed glance towards the wrecked dummies, the dent in the floor made by the weight and the paints swirling around his feet.

He then placed his arm on the tree at the part it almost blended into, being the exact same shade and having the right contour lines to become almost invisible. Peeta did have an artistic eye, he must admit. "I thought I'd show you I have a range of skills, and maybe that's just enough for you to give me that high mark I deserve. I want everyone to know that I'm not just any tribute."

He kept his eye upon the Gamemaker table. They were still silent. A few were nodding in approval, some were looking shocked, but all had a common feature: they were impressed. He let his eyes shift to Crane, who smiled back at him.

"Good job twelve." He said, his eyes glinting. "You are dismissed."

"Thank you for your consideration." Peeta gave them one last smile then bowed politely before exiting the room.

He was almost certain that he'd pulled it off perfectly.

* * *

One thing Peeta would surely miss when he was in the arena was Capitol food.

Back in District 12, he'd always considered himself beyond lucky that he had two meals each day and a father who could easily cook up a treat. It wasn't until he came here that he realized that all that paled in comparison. Everything was so much richer here, so much fuller and thicker, bursting with flavours and spices that people where he came from couldn't even afford.

Licking his chocolate-covered spoon clean, he loaded up his plate with another slice of the thick, creamy cake. He'd seriously miss the Capitol food.

Across the table, Effie bustled about busily with a bundle of papers, frantically ticking things off on her numerous checklists. He watched her affectionately as she fussed over pointless things, knowing that it was because the Tribute's scores were aired in twenty odd minutes. She was nervous.

She wasn't the only one.

Katniss sat sulking on the couch in front of the TV, curled in on herself angrily. She was a different kind of nervous now, not the kind where she shook in her skin and stuttered but the kind where she was clearly furious. Her showcase in front of the Gamemakers hadn't gone too well. Of course, this was indirectly all his fault, hence the sulking: It had taken them so long to clear up the mess Peeta had made that by the time she got there, they were already tucking into their meal and didn't pay her or her perfect shooting any attention.

She had stormed out of the room afterwards absolutely fuming.

Haymitch had made a vague attempt to comfort her, but she wouldn't be consoled and he gave up pretty fast. Now he sat on one of the plush leather chairs near to her, feet kicked up onto one of the glass coffee tables (in spite of the numerous amount of disapproving glares this earned him from Effie) and a small glass of wine clutched tightly in his hand. As reluctant as he'd be to admit it, he was nervous too.

The only person feeling at least somewhat relaxed was Peeta. He thought he'd done well, the best he could, and he knew that he'd impressed the Gamekeepers. He was generally feeling very pleased with himself, and Haymitch had been nothing short of delighted when he recounted the events to him. His favourite part was the dent Peeta had made in the floor, laughing even harder when Katniss confirmed they hadn't been able to amend before she got there.

As he finished his dessert, he reached for the hi-tech remote control and flicked the TV on as he settled down beside Katniss on the couch. They were airing a replay of the reapings before they aired the scores, just to remind everyone of what all of the Tributes looked like.

It seemed like so long ago that he'd just been another face in a crowd, another name in a glass bowl, and just another observer to Katniss stepping forward to take her hysterical sister's place. Now here he was, reliving the moment from behind a screen with the miserable girl sat next to him.

At the time, he had pitied her. Now? Not so much.

"I don't want to watch this." Katniss interjected from beside him.

"Tough luck that I've got the remote, then, because I want to." She made a grab for it but he was quicker, tucking it out of her reach behind a cushion and then sitting on it. Maybe he was being a little childish about it. "Just close your eyes or something. It's nearly over anyway."

She glowered at him, her expression murderous, and he smiled back. This felt so familiar to him that it was almost comforting.

His reaping was the last shown, a close-up shot taken of his look of despair as Effie called out his name. He could barely even remember what had happened after that, couldn't recall being lead to the stage by the Peacekeepers or made to shake Katniss' hand up on stage, but the evidence to show that he did was playing out on the screen right in front of him.

Then suddenly the anthem was played and Caesar Flickerman's familiar face floated into view. He was the Capitol's most popular presenter and he'd been doing the commentaries for The Hunger Games for as long as Peeta could remember. This year, his hair was a pale shade of cerulean blue.

"Here's the moment you've been waiting for!" The announcement was directed to the crowd in front of him, but Peeta knew that it applied to Panem in its entirety. Back home, everyone would be stood before the screens with bated breath, hoping that their District would be in with a good chance of victory.

He hoped they would be, too.

As each score was announced, an image of their face hovered across the screen to remind people once again exactly whom it was they were evaluating. Glimmer received a 9, Marvel a 10 and Clove a 10 to match. As Cato's face appeared, he felt his body tense up.

"From District 2, we have Cato with a…" Caesar smiled into the camera, dragging the moment out for suspense. "An eleven, only one point away from getting the very highest score!" The crowd around him burst into applause, and Peeta felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Since he'd decided to make him an ally, he'd almost forgotten exactly how good Cato really was. If his plan failed, he could be dead in an instant.

Distracted, he barely noticed the rest of the scores. All of the Tributes that weren't Careers tended to get far lower ratings. Peeta couldn't help but snigger when he saw that Foxface had been awarded a mere 5. How embarrassing.

As it reached the outlying Districts, Peeta began to feel more anxious, keenly awaiting his score. As he watched, he was surprised to note that Rue had been awarded an 8, an extremely high score for someone of her age. Perhaps the Gamemakers were feeling unusually generous.

Thresh, her District partner, was awarded a solid 10. As Katniss' face appeared on the screen, everyone in the room held their breath in anticipation. There was a pause, before a seven appeared beside her, circling around her face almost tauntingly. A seven. The best huntswoman in District 12 had scored a seven, an even lower score than Rue. If she weren't sitting right beside him, he'd have probably laughed.

"That's okay," Effie reassured her. "We can work with that."

Katniss nodded as the image of her face was replaced by Peeta's. He gnawed down on his lip hard enough to draw blood as Caesar spun in his chair, stalling.

"Last but by no means least, we have Peeta Mellark who earned himself a score of… Eleven! That's the second of the night, folks, and the highest score anyone from District 12 has ever earned!"

He felt elated, like he was floating. Haymitch sprung up from his seat, placing his wine to one side as he embraced the boy. Effie wasn't far behind, wrapping her arms around the pair of them and rocking them from side to side happily.

It was like he was a little kid again, sandwiched between his two proud parents after he told them that he had come top of his class in the recent test or he had sold more cakes than his brothers that day. Over the years, moments like those had become less frequent, but he tried not to think about that now.

Instead, he relished the feeling of two pairs of warm arms around him. In that moment, he felt safe, cared for and warm but of course, just like the bitch she was, Katniss had to ruin it.

"Starting tomorrow, I want to train on my own." She said.

* * *

Backstage of Caesar Flickerman's show, there was a buzz of nervous excitement in the air. All of the Tributes stood dressed up and lined up for their interviews, from first District to last. Peeta stood at the very back, last in the queue, clad in a tidy blue suit that, according to Portia, really brought out the colour in his eyes.

Beside him, Katniss was doing that weird shaking thing again. This time, unlike on the chariot, he ignored her. There was no hand holding, and no whispered words of encouragement. At this stage in the competition, he just couldn't afford to act like that.

Everyone seemed to be psyching themselves up for the interview in a different way. At the very front of the line, Glimmer fiddled incessantly with her hair while Marvel flexed his muscles beside her, a member of their prep team wielding a mirror before them so they could admire their immaculate reflections. Behind them, Cato was doing his usual glare-at-everything-that-breathes sequence and Clove stood casually beside him, her expression quietly confident.

A little further back, Foxface had sat down on the floor in a full-lotus position, arms slightly raised as she closed her eyes and meditated. Weirdo.

Closer to them, Rue and her District partner Thresh were quietly discussing something, his thick arm resting protectively around his shoulders. He noticed with surprise that she didn't really look nervous to be going out on stage. She just looked like a kid who was too young and too small for a situation like this. They all were. Every fiber in his being wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay, that there was still a chance she could go home. He didn't, though, because there wasn't. Peeta felt sorry for whoever had the job of killing her.

"You're going out in three minutes," said a woman from behind her clipboard near the front of the room.

A nervous ripple spread through the line of Tributes. It was showtime. Foxface stood up, straightened her dress. Cato bared his teeth in a threatening manner, attempting to school his expression into one that was slightly less confrontational. Glimmer pouted into the mirror one last time. Katniss drew in one shaky breath, then another.

Even from where he stood, Peeta could faintly hear the cheers of the Capitol crowd as Caesar laughed and joked with them.

"Just meters away stand the twenty four people you are going to watch battle for their lives in the 74th annual Hunger Games and, in just few minutes, you're going to meet them!" He called out to them loudly, and an anxious hush fell over the room. "Are you excited?" he asked. The answering screams reverberated through the walls.

"Then, without further ado, please welcome your Tributes!"

At this, the clipboard woman began to usher them forwards, ensuring that they trailed onto the stage one-by-one to take their seat in front of their audience. At the back, Peeta watched as each of them disappeared on to the stage. Ahead of him, Katniss stumbled out clumsily, nearly tripping on the hem of her long, flowing dress. This made him chuckle a little, in spite of himself.

He was still grinning when he stepped out in front of the crowd. They cheered for him and he waved back, blowing one particularly hideous woman a kiss and laughing more when she practically fainted.

Sitting down in his seat, he tried to make eye contact with as many of the people in the crowd as he could while Caesar bounced about the stage, introducing them and leading them over one by one to be interviewed.

The more people felt like they had made a connection with him, the more likely they were to sponsor him.

* * *

As he watched the rest of the interviews, Peeta grew increasingly nervous, but made an effort to make sure nobody noticed. All of the other Tributes seemed to know exactly what they were doing and exactly which game they should be playing.

Glimmer strutted out to greet Caesar first. She giggled throughout her entire interview and fluttered her long eyelashes hard enough to make every man and at least half of the women in the audience swoon. When she was asked if she was ready for the games, she gave a confident smile and nodded.

"I know I may look like just a pretty face, but there's far more to me than that. I'm lethal, I know what I'm doing and I'm ready for this."

After her, Marvel cockily boasted about his strength, going as far as lifting his shirt to show off his firm abs to the audience. Clove followed him, speaking to Caesar seriously. She was practically channeling cool and collected confidence. None of this was particularly surprising to Peeta, just a little unnerving.

Then Cato stood up, his tight-fitting suit shimmering gold as he made his way towards the interview. For the first time since Peeta had met him, he looked almost human, as if there was an actual person living under the cold exterior.

He beamed a pearly white smile to the audience, winking towards a few of them them as he took his seat and Peeta couldn't help but watch him, transfixed and completely enthralled by the way the frosty-natured boy had transformed himself so completely.

Caesar welcomed him warmly and they shook hands, exchanging an apparently genuine smile. Peeta hadn't known he was even capable of those. "So, tell me Cato," the man began, his hands folding together in his lap as he studied the boy. "How are you finding your training?"

"It's very… tiring." Cato admitted, and then laughed. "It's really cool though, I get to spend so much time doing what I love. Practicing with weapons and sparring against the trainers has been really great for me because I've really been able to push myself to my limits. Hopefully that will pay off in the arena."

He spoke with so much enthusiasm as he explained all about his favourite kind of weapons, from long swords to tridents, miming how they were used as he talked. He looked like the little kids did when they walked past District 12's lone candy store, his eyes lit up so brightly they sparkled.

His slot was finished far too quickly for Peeta's liking and soon enough he was back in his seat, his personality reigned back in to its usual cold and controlled state. For the rest of the show, Peeta found that he couldn't pay much attention to the other interviews. Instead he found himself wondering absently which side of Cato was the true Cato, whether either of them were an act of if the boy was simply a combination of the two.

For some reason that he couldn't quite fathom, he found himself hoping that the Cato he knew from training was the act.

* * *

Before he knew it, Katniss was standing up from her perch beside him. She wobbled in her high shoes, legs shaking as she made her way towards the cheering crowd and Caesar's smiling face.

This snapped him back into gear, his mind suddenly alert at the realization that he was next. It was his turn next. He went over his plan with Haymitch quickly. Be confident. Impress the Careers. Pretend to like Katniss. It was simple enough. He could do this.

As the girl began to speak, Peeta leant forward in his chair as if he was enchanted by her, allowing a small smile to play about the corners of his lips. As usual, she was nervous, but Caesar tried to help her along as best she could. She slowly began to relax into the interview.

It wasn't until she was asked about their fiery entrance that she really shined, though. Literally, she shined. Standing up from her seat, she twirled about the small stage, the tail ends of her dress bursting into bright orange flame. The crowd went wild. Peeta would bet anything that backstage, Effie would be pretty much swelling up with pride.

"Wow, Katniss, that really was something." Caesar looked suitably impressed as the girl flopped back into her seat beside him, face flushed and giggling. She looked exhilarated, but came down from her high quickly when she was asked about her little sister, Prim, and what it was like to say goodbye to her.

"I don't want to think of it as a goodbye. I want to think of it as an 'I'll see you soon.' I told her I would try to win. I told her I would try to win for her."

"Of course you did." Caesar pressed a hand to his heart, as if this were the sweetest sentiment he'd ever heard. "And try you shall." He offered out his hand to help her climb to her feet, which she took gratefully. She wasn't shaking as badly when she headed back towards her seat, shooting Peeta a small smile.

Then Caesar called his name, and for a minute it felt like the whole world had come to a stop. The faces of the crowd stood frozen in time, pulled into an array of excited expressions. He stood up slowly, glancing around. Cato was staring at him curiously. He bit his lip, straightened his suit jacket and took a deep breath as he strode forwards.

It was show time.

* * *

Up close, Caesar looked different. His teeth seemed bigger, as if they were about to burst out of his face, and his hair was a deeper shade of blue than it appeared on camera. His palms were warm and soft between Peeta's fingers when they shook hands.

Peeta couldn't help but feel immediately at ease.

"So, Peeta, you're our final Tribute of the night. How have you found watching the other contestants in their interviews?" Every eye in the room was trained on him, waiting for his answer. This moment was crucial. He knew he had to answer this right, to come across as confident without being arrogant.

"Well, I've heard it said that they always save the best until last." He winked at the audience here, and they laughed. "It's been interesting to watch everyone else get up here. I don't mean to put a downer on the night, but the more I know about these guys, the better chance I have of beating them."

"Do you think you have a good chance of doing that?"

"I'd like to say I have a pretty good chance." Peeta smiled. "I mean… Well. Let's just say a lot of the tributes here will probably want to overlook me." He let his gaze drift over to Cato, hopefully without it being too obvious. "But, honestly? I think the fact that I'm from District 12 should intrigue people rather than put them off." He spread his hands widely as he laughed. "Maybe Haymitch is in for a new neighbour."

Caesar laughed, tipping his head back and positively roaring. "Yes...yes! And what a good point. I mean, a simple thing such as your District should have no effect on how people perceive you. Am I right?" He demanded of the crowd with a grin, who met the question with a chorus of whoops and cheers.

"So, Peeta," Caesar leaned forward and Peeta grinned at him, waiting for him to continue. "We've heard some rumours...about you and another tribute?" He winked and the crowd went wild.

This was the time to decide just how much he 'liked' Katniss.

"I don't know what you mean, Caesar." He feigned innocence before winking at the crowd. "Well, do you think you can all keep a secret?" He asked in a stage-whisper.

"You can trust us, Peeta." The crowd screamed in assent.

"I do like someone here." He let a smile fall on his face as he quickly glanced over at Katniss, who blushed and ducked her head, still not quite at peace with the idea. "But," he raised his finger as he continued. "It's the Hunger Games, Caesar. I'm not an idiot." He smiled somewhat sadly. "I know nothing will come of it. So I think we're just going to have our fun while it lasts." He waggled his eyebrows, which caused another onslaught of screams from the audience. "But when we get in the arena...we're all opponents, aren't we? And I'm taking that seriously. I want to win, Caesar. And you can bet she wants to aswell." The crowd cheered him as Caesar leant forward.

"Well, I think I speak for everyone here when I wish you good luck, Peeta Mellark! And may you and your..." He looked over at Katniss and winked "...let's say 'secret girlfriend'... have the best of fun before the arena!"

At this, the two stood up, and shook hands. Peeta winked again at some faceless member of the crowd who screamed and clutched the person next to her. He laughed as he bowed, then walked off stage to sit beside Katniss. Thank God that was over.

Now he just had to find Haymitch and Effie to see if he was okay.

* * *

**A/N: **_Hello everyone! Sorry it took longer than usual for an update, we had some technical problems but they're resolved now and we're working on getting the next update out as soon as possible - it's the one you've all been waiting for! They're going into the arena next chapter! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far and let us know what they think, all of your comments are so helpful to us and truly appreciated._


	6. Chapter 6

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 6**

* * *

Peeta awoke with a start, sweat sticking his clothes to his body unpleasantly. His eyes blearily took in the early morning sunlight streaming in from the window. It was the morning of the Games already.

He got out of bed quickly, not wanting to waste a single moment of the precious time he had left. For all he knew, he could never see a sunrise again. At the thought of this, he practically ran into the breakfast room where food was only just being lain down. Effie sat there, prim and proper as ever, conversing with an Avox until she noticed Peeta. Stopping mid-sentence, she gave him a sad smile, gesturing him over. Without hesitation, he ran to her and hugged her tightly.

He could feel himself shaking, so he breathed deeply in attempt to stop it. Effie stroked his hair and shushed him, treating him like a little boy. He didn't mind. He could use a little affection before he was thrown into an arena to fight to the death. He gulped and tears threatened to spill out of his wide eyes, blown open with the fear he was feeling.

"Effie, I'm so scared," he muttered, letting her pull him closer, cuddle him tighter. "I… I don't want to do it. I can't, I-"

He choked back a sob and she shushed him, pushing him back slightly so that she could look him in the eyes, taking his chin into her hands. "Peeta, you can. You can do this, I know that you can. You just have to believe in yourself, mister." Smiling at him, she ruffled his hair. Peeta could tell she was keeping her emotions in check in an attempt to make him feel a little better. The thought touched him, and he tried to calm down for her sake, repeating the words 'I can do it' in his head like a mantra. He was just trying to make himself believe it.

After a couple of minutes, he disentangled himself from Effie's arms and offered her a smile. "Thanks Effie." He couldn't deny that he felt slightly better, but nerves were twisting and cutting into his gut like sharp weaponry. The reality remained that in a couple of hours, the sharp stabs of pain in his stomach could well be from real blades, not just metaphorical ones.

Shaking his head to rid himself of these thoughts, he began to scour the dishes in front of him in search of something he could eat for breakfast. He felt sick, but knew that he could only work well with a full stomach - if he didn't get in with the Careers for whatever reason, it might be a while before he got another proper meal.

With this thought in mind, he sat down and began to load up his plate. Effie smiled at him again with another touch of sadness then started to babble to him about the grandeur of the foods on offer: trying her best in her own ditzy way to comfort him.

* * *

Effie couldn't accompany him to the hovercraft, so he had to say goodbye to her before he was sent to see Haymitch. They embraced tightly once more.

"Good luck, Peeta." She smiled at him, pretending to be cheerful but there were tears sparkling in her eyes and the trill in her voice was ringing a little flat. "Thank you for being the best tribute I've ever had the pleasure to accompany." The arms around his shoulders held onto him tightly, as if she were reluctant to ever let him go. "Now!" She wiped her eyes and asserted herself. "You wouldn't want to be late now would you?" She ushered him toward the door.

"No, we simply couldn't have that!" Peeta rolled his eyes affectionately. "Good-bye Effie."

"Good luck, Peeta. I'll see you after the Games." Effie quipped and smiled at him widely one last time. Then she stood on the other side of the doorframe, waving to him as the wooden door between them gently swung shut, closing the bridge between their two worlds all-too suddenly.

* * *

Even Haymitch was slightly sentimental when they parted, offering him a gruff "You'll be fine, boy," before enveloping Peeta into his arms for a brief hug. When they pulled away from each other, his mentor's eyes were definitely a little redder and his tone was a lot more urgent.

"Just remember everything that I told you, and keep in mind that you haven't had any acceptance off them yet. If it seems like they're not going to give it, run like hell. You haven't got any other choice. Sure, stick around for a few minutes, but no longer than that, okay? Oh, and if you're ever desperate for an ally, Katniss wouldn't a bad choice. I know that is worst-case scenario, but she could get you food - it would be an easy alliance, at least."

"But the Careers might accept me yet."

"That's right, kid." He inhaled deeply, steadying his shaky breaths. "Good luck."

Peeta found it hard to part from him with anything other than an uneasy smile, but there was no time like the present to practice his confidence. After all, he was only a few steps away from the hovercraft that contained all of the other tributes. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

He smiled at Haymitch a little more readily this time, setting a mask upon himself to cover up quite how terrified he was. He patted the older on the arm affectionately, who in turn did the same to him. "Thanks for being a brilliant mentor."

Haymitch smiled at that. "Thanks for being a tribute I actually could mentor."

They both exchanged a small laugh and, with that, Peeta walked away. He had to force himself to stand straight, chin up, like he wasn't afraid of anything. He couldn't look back. He wouldn't.

Peeta gulped, swallowing his fears as he walked over to the hovercraft, making an effort to straighten out his knees so they weren't knocking together. When he began his assent of the metal stairs that lead up and into it, he noticed the only empty seat was sat next to Cato. Of course it was, that was just his luck. This made him somehow more nervous than ever - he had never had this much of a hard time trying to mask his feelings.

He walked over casually and sat down without making eye contact with anyone. He wanted to put his head in his hands, cry and scream all at the same time but instead he held it together as the Capitol assistants milled around, injecting something in their arms. Katniss asked what they were, sounding worried. Trackers. So the Capitol could always have their eyes on them. Well, they wouldn't want to lose a tribute, would they?

He lifted his head to stare at the other tributes. Now was not the time to show his weakness in facing them. He felt Cato's eyes on him before he saw them, and when he met them Cato simply made a face as if Peeta wasn't even good enough for him to pay attention to and turned away. He was now trying to intimidate him in a totally different way, and Peeta had to admit this way was probably more effective.

Cato knew that he was completely reliant on allying with the Careers. They were his best bet for survival and, no matter what alternate solutions Haymitch had offered up, Peeta wasn't prepared to accept them. None of them would work. The more he thought about this, the more he felt his palms begin to sweat. He took great care to ensure nobody saw him wipe them on his pants.

At least the other tributes looked just as worried as he did, except for the Careers, of course. Glimmer was giggling away at some joke Marvel cracked, and Cato was oozing self-confidence. Clove caught his eye as he turned to assess her. They both looked at each other for a while before she nodded imperceptibly, after checking to see if Cato was looking. When she saw he wasn't, she mouthed "Allies?" at him.

Peeta couldn't believe it. She was asking him to be part of the career pack: he felt dizzy and light-headed with gratitude and relief, even if Cato clearly was either not in on this arrangement or didn't agree with it. He nodded sharply and enthusiastically. Maybe a bit too enthusiastically, he chided himself, as Clove turned away and grinned out of the window.

* * *

Portia had become a friend to him in the Capitol, probably because Peeta didn't have the same qualms as Katniss when it came to people from the Capitol being 'evil'. It's not like it was their fault they were all so shallow headed - it was just the way they were raised, and many of them were some of the nicest people he'd ever came across, Portia being one of them.

She greeted him cheerfully before cracking a few jokes to settle him and make him feel at ease. It was a tough job, but somehow she managed it.

"So, you're in with the Careers?" She grinned.

"Well, I think so." He made a face. "Still not so sure about Cato's feelings on that one." She rolled her eyes before offering him the jacket, which he tugged round his shoulders impatiently.

"He'll soon see what he's missing," She comforted him. "As soon as you get into that arena, he'll be eating his words." Peeta thought that she didn't seem the type for teary goodbyes, and he was right. "Listen, Peeta. I fully believe you're going to come back and then I can make you a lovely outfit for your final interview. But if you don't... Thank you for being the first and the best tribute I'll ever style."

They hugged, and it was easy, and not loaded of emotion like Haymitch's and Effie's goodbyes were. Peeta was glad.

From the corner of the room, the autocom announced it was just thirty seconds before he had to be in the arena. He took a deep breath in, then nodded at Portia. "I guess this is goodbye."

She smiled. "Goodbye, Peeta. Remember, keep that head of yours held high. You're not weak."

The glass door closed between them and Peeta felt the familiar stirrings of fear build up, but schooled his expression into one that held an aggressive sort of excitement. Portia nodded in approval as Peeta was raised up from the floor.

Light streamed in from the outside world and for a few seconds, Peeta was momentarily blinded. The countdown began as Peeta surveyed the arena desperately. Woods, lots of woods and the glistening gold of the Cornucopia, sat right in the middle of the podiums. There was a lake to his right. He felt a pang of jealousy - the arena could have been designed just for Katniss.

He turned to look at the other tributes in attempt to unnerve them further. He caught the eye of the girl he'd intimidated by the combat station in training and laughed at her, then looked up to see Marvel eyeing him. His lips were moving, and Peeta had to squint to see the way they formed the word "Allies?"

Trying to contain his excitement at this, Peeta just nodded quickly, turning again to Clove who was staring ahead at the Cornucopia with a sense of greed.

"3, 2, 1!"

This was it. Peeta ran off his podium.

* * *

Peeta didn't even think about it as he surged forwards, his heavy footfalls flattening the green grass underfoot. He didn't stop to pick up a pack or spare a glance behind him. There was no time for that. He had to get to a weapon now, before anyone else did. He could pick up other supplies later when he was firmly with the Careers.

Despite the fact that he was a fast runner, he wasn't the first to reach the Cornucopia. Marvel and Cato had both made it there before him, arming themselves quickly.

Thresh had already left, making his way towards the tall grass with a machete in one hand and a long dagger in another. Peeta found himself surprised when Thresh drove the sharp metal straight through one of the smaller girls, one that he'd never taken the time to get to know. She fell to the ground, lifeless, a steady stream of red blood oozing out from her body and staining the green grass red. Thresh didn't even look back.

Looking around him, he noticed that the Careers were already armed and fighting outside of the Cornucopia, easily picking off any Tributes that attempted to come near. Peeta still stood frozen in the mouth, unarmed, watching as the people were slaughtered. They weren't test dummies this time, not targets to practice with. This wasn't a trial run. This was real life with real people and real blood being shed.

For the first time since his name had been picked out of the bowl, Peeta realized that he might not be able to do this.

Suddenly a broad shouldered girl ran towards him, brandishing a dagger in her hand. Her eyes were murderous, reminding him that in this competition, there was only one rule. Kill or be killed. It's not like he had a choice about it.

There was no time for him to grab a weapon before she pounced, brandishing the knife clumsily as she tried to stab at him. Luckily her movements were so frantic that they missed each time. He grabbed her wrist with one hand, snapping it easily between his fingers. She screamed out in pain, dropping her weapon. Quickly he twisted her into a headlock, a death grip around her throat.

The girl's eyes bulged as he choked her. In that moment he knew that he could easily strangle her, watch her body suffer from lack of air then break her neck, make it slow and painful. He didn't, though. Reaching for the dagger, he drove it straight into her jugular, bursting through the vein there and killing her almost instantly.

Maybe he couldn't spare her life, but he could spare her horrible pain when it wasn't necessary. Besides, he didn't have the time to spend on her.

Letting her limp body fall from his arms, he quickly turned to arm himself with a longer sword and several smaller knives that conveniently fit into his pocket. By the time he'd turned around, most of the fighting outside was done. Cato and Clove were collecting packs, as Marvel finished up the last of the survivors with his spear while Glimmer loaded her bow with an arrow.

The ground was littered with broken and bloodied bodies.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peeta caught a glimpse of a boy crouching beside the Cornucopia, almost concealed from sight by the golden walls. He was watching Cato carefully, eyes narrowed like he was focusing on a target. He drew his hand back, and only then did Peeta notice that he was armed with a dagger, one that was on course to drive its way straight into Cato's heart. No, Peeta thought. No way was this kid going to kill off his strongest ally.

Well, almost ally.

Lunging forward in a panic, he drove his sword into the boy's chest, watching as an expression of horror and terror crossed his dying face. Withdrawing his bloody sword, he bent down to wipe it clean on the younger boy's trousers. It's not like he'd need them. He was dead.

Suddenly something heavy hit him from behind, spinning him around and pinning him to the side of the Cornucopia. He could feel the cold, sharp edge of a blade digging into his neck, one small bead of blood trickling downwards from the point that had pierced his skin. When he looked up, he wasn't surprised to see that his captor was Cato.

"What the hell are you still doing here, twelve?" he shouted, slamming Peeta back into the hard wall. There was a loud thump as his body collided with the metal. His vision blurred where he hit his head. The only thing he could focus on was Cato. He made an effort not to look as scared as he felt. "Do you have a death wish or something? You knew that I was going to kill you!"

"Cato, let him go." Clove's voice rang out from not far away, cold and authoritative, but Cato's vice like-grip on Peeta didn't loosen. He turned to glare at his district partner incredulously. She shrugged back at him. "What? He's our ally."

"What?" He looked completely bewildered. "No he isn't. I told you he isn't!"

"And now I'm telling you that yes, he is." The girl smiled at him coldly. "Marvel agrees with me. We need him. Let him go."

"Wait, you mean that you two agreed to take him on as an ally without consulting me?" Cato was fuming as he turned his accusing eyes onto Marvel. The boy looked nervous suddenly, bringing his spear up into a defensive position.

"It's not like we didn't try to reason with you," Clove pointed out, rolling her eyes. "If you hadn't been so stupid back then, we wouldn't be fighting over this now in front of everyone. Stop being so childish and just admit he's more useful to us alive than he would be dead. I mean, he just saved your life! That one was aiming at you." She nodded toward the dead tribute on the ground and Cato narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Glimmer, who had been quiet up until now, looked deeply conflicted.

"Maybe you should just let him go, Cato." She mumbled, and everyone turned to stare at her disbelievingly. "What? I am allowed to have opinions, you know, and I think he'd make a good ally." She smiled at Peeta warmly.

"You just want to flirt with him!" Clove accused her furiously, and the blond girl scowled back at her just as angrily. It didn't matter that it was the truth; she still held the right to be offended by it.

"You know, it's three against one here," Marvel piped up from the corner. At this, the boy sighed, knowing he was defeated. Dropping the blade from its position at Peeta's throat, he grudgingly stepped back.

"Fine, but I'm not happy about this."

"Really?" Peeta pretended to look shocked. "I would never have guessed. To think, here was me thinking you wanted to be my best friend forever. Oh, how my heart is bleeding!"

"Shut up." Cato looked ready to throttle him. "I can still kill you."

"I don't think so," Clove intervened, and Peeta smirked. "Stop wasting time and just deal with it. We can't afford to be distracted by your petty arguments, not when we need to round up the supplies and set up a camp."

* * *

They had set out to organise supplies, but all they'd managed to do so far was sort out the weapons from the food. Peeta had expected to find some sort of deep sorrow and regret at the two tributes he'd killed, the two lives he'd ended. Instead he just felt relief. He'd counted the cannons. Twelve more to go.

Peeta was just setting up an fire when to his left came the sound of a branch snapping.

"Who's there?" Cato demanded, and jumped up to head towards the slight rustling in the trees, Marvel and Glimmer close in tow. He growled in the vague direction of the noise and pulled out his sword, poised to attack.

A small squeak came from the trees as the boy revealed himself.

"Please don't hurt me," the little boy whimpered. All of the Careers laughed, Peeta included. This boy was just asking for death, a humiliating one at that. Showing your fear just meant showing your weakness. Cato ignored his plea, raising his sword higher and laughing.

"No!" The more panicked the boy got, the higher pitched his voice and the more garbled his words became. "I can help you! I'm from District 3 and we do electronics and I can - I can set up the mines!" Cato stopped in his tracks to allow the information to digest.

Encouraged by the sudden lull in the Careers advances, the boy continued quickly. "I know how to deactivate and reactivate the mines and I thought - I thought that we could be allies and I could... I could do it for you..." The boy looked terrified out of his wits as Cato considered him with narrow eyes.

Glimmer and Marvel hovered behind Cato, unsure of what to do until their leader gave them direction. Peeta and Clove remained on the ground, which seemed to represent to Peeta at least who were the most intelligent of the four led by Cato.

The silence stretched for several moments, the little boy visibly beginning to sweat, before Cato nodded curtly. "If you can do it, get a move on and do it. Set them up around our supplies." His face then twisted into a positively murderous expression. "But…" he snarled "If you screw up, or try anything funny, you're dead."

Having issued his warning, he threw his sword down and flung himself to the floor after it, allowing himself to relax. His two followers mimicked his actions and Peeta caught the ghost of a smirk on Clove's face, which she didn't quite fight down quickly enough, at their dependancy on the other boy to tell them what to do.

The hunger games weren't a team game. They'd both need to learn to think for themselves if they wanted to survive.

* * *

Conversation between six people who are plotting each other's deaths never exactly flows easily, meaning that dinner was slightly awkward. They sat around a fire, eating away at their supplies quietly until they found a topic they could all talk about (well, apart the boy from 3 who hadn't quite managed it): the people that they had killed earlier.

"Twelve dead!" Clove cheered, and the rest of the Careers laughed along with her. "Isn't that some sort of record?" Of course, it wasn't. The tributes nearly always halved after the initial scramble at the Cornucopia.

"The best one was the girl from 8 - did you see her face?" Marvel laughed cruelly. "Hey, Peeta, wasn't that the one you made cry in the training center?"

Peeta smirked and let out a mean snigger. "It sure was. I did tell her that she wouldn't get two meters from the podium." This made all the Careers laugh, even Cato. Well, he chuckled a little before reining it back in and putting on his blank mask once more, but as far as Peeta was concerned, that still counted.

It was almost a relaxed atmosphere for Peeta as the others (with the exception of Cato) had taken to him easily, already regarding him as one of them. He was secretly glad that they picked up the District 3 boy... apart from the benefit he'd bring them in terms of keeping their food safe; it made sure that Peeta wasn't the outsider. He was more one of them than the District 3 boy would ever be, and even Cato must know it.

He looked up at the sky to survey the stars, which were just coming into sight, blinking back at him somewhat unnaturally. Were the skies here fake as well? He pondered this for a second. Probably, he mused, but then suddenly a plume of smoke caught his eye, curling upwards into the dark like a signpost reading 'I'm over here, please come and kill me'. Was a tribute really that stupid? He sighed, knowing that he didn't want to go and hunt this teenager down, but perhaps they deserved it. How much respect would he get for earning his allies another kill?

"Look at that!" He exclaimed, making his mind up now before he talked himself out of it. "Some idiot over there lit up a fire" He pointed upwards at the trail of smoke in the sky. "Anyone up for it?"

Peeta waggled his eyebrows at them, knowing full well that they were all still feeling up for a fight, if not bloodthirsty for one. He was pleased to note that he still had a piece of morality still intact, that he wasn't desperate for the kills or the fights but he did not dread them either.

Clove smiled at him wider than he'd ever seen, a genuine one with a touch of malevolence. "Good spot Peeta! Now let's go and show this stupid little kid exactly why they shouldn't draw attention to themselves." The others jeered along and stood up quickly.

Cato threw his head back and laughed, a deep booming sound that sent chills down Peeta's spine. They really were twisted. "Let's go. Three, you're staying here. If any of our things are gone when we get back..." He bent down and hovered over the cowering boy menacingly. "Then you are dead. And I'll make sure it is particularly horrible."

The boy nodded quickly to show his understanding, clearly terrified, but the others didn't notice. They were too busy excitedly making their way over to the tribute with the fire.

On the way, they were making so much noise that every tribute within a thirteen-mile radius could probably hear them. Buzzing with the adrenaline of the first night of the games and the prospect of getting yet another kill, the Careers were cheering and whooping as they went.

If they carried on like this, the tribute would have heard them coming and just run away, having been forewarned by their (especially Marvel's) incessant screeching. Peeta felt a twitch of irritation at this. He didn't tell them of the fire for no reason.

"Guys," He looked at them with a hint of exasperation. "If we carry on being this loud, they'll be no tribute waiting there to kill. Maybe we should quiet it down now that we're a bit nearer, okay?"

He made sure to use 'we' instead of 'you', though he hadn't made a noise the whole way here. Marvel looked slightly affronted and was beginning to oppose the idea until Cato agreed. "Lover Boy's right, you should shut up."

Everyone fell silent at Cato's demand, which made Peeta even more irritated, but not as much as Cato's use of that nickname did. He made a mental note to assure them all that he wasn't in love with Katniss as soon as possible.

A few minutes later, they finally got in sight of the girl. She was rubbing her hands desperately over the fire, trying her hardest to warm up. She didn't even look up when Marvel stepped on a twig, causing a loud crack to reverberate around them on this silent night. Peeta and Cato both sent him a disapproving look, and then Cato swaggered forward, gesturing for the others to follow. As they obliged him, Peeta set an arrogant smirk on his face to match that of the others.

"I'd say lighting a fire is a bit risky, what with these clear skies." Cato smirked at the poor girl, who looked absolutely terrified. Who wouldn't be when confronted with the Careers - all five of them had proved to be of deadly skill. She whimpered, seemingly unable to coerce any other sounds out of her mouth.

Peeta led the laughter this time, the others falling into step with him. Even Cato gave her a cruel bark of a laugh. "Now who should we have kill her...?" He surveyed the others. "What about you, Lover Boy?"

Peeta somehow knew this was coming. He'd only killed two of the twelve tributes at the bloodbath, and they weren't particularly brutal or unpleasant murders either. So this was Cato's initiation for him, was it?

He stepped forward, his cruel smirk firmly in place. He twirled a knife he had picked up earlier around in his fingers. "With pleasure." He knelt down at the girl's side, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her screams. He was surprised when he looked up to see that Clove was also crouching.

"Do you mind me getting a piece of the action?" She winked at him, and he returned it with a sense of relief. At least the blood wouldn't be entirely on his hands. He kept up the cruel facade though, and both him and Clove picked away at the girl with their knives, dragging her death out until finally Cato got bored.

"Alright, hurry it up already." He growled, and Glimmer simpered at him again for no apparent reason.

"Cato's right." She smiled. "He always is." Peeta smirked to himself at the disgusted look Cato had shot her before he spoke to the girl.

"I'm so sorry that the odds weren't in your favour." He laced the statement with a sugar-sweet smile, before plunging his knife into her neck. It would be a matter of seconds before her life gave out.

Sure enough, there was the cannon. Clove gave him a high-five and grinned at him. "I'm so glad you're part of the team, Peeta!" She exclaimed, earning a mutter of assent from Marvel and even a nod from Glimmer. Cato simply stared at him before telling them all to head back to camp without saying a word to Peeta.

It wasn't like he was going to praise the kid or anything.

* * *

**A/N**: Hello everyone! We'd just like to say how lovely it is that you're all reviewing so often and that you're as excited about this story as we are! It would be great if you'd carry on reviewing, we love to know that you guys like the story so far, and we're working on getting the next chapter to you as soon as possible! Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 7**

* * *

Peeta was still in a terrible mood. He had scowled at Glimmer when she'd tried to fiddle with his hair flirtatiously, and he continued to rub his aching stomach pointedly whenever Marvel caught his eye.

On the third or fourth time, Marvel sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I tried shaking you at first but you weren't waking up, so Cato told me to hit you."

Of course, Peeta thought bitterly. If Cato had told him to, then he just had to do it, right? Everyone must abide by Cato because he is just so god damned special. He fixed a glare on the trees and hugged his knee, not noticing the way his lip curled distastefully as he continued his inner rant. He got the same score as Cato, didn't he? Didn't that warrant some respect? He was just as strong as Cato, if not stronger. It's not like he'd trained for this at a special academy all his life.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't even realise that Cato and Clove had returned from their morning hunt until the lithe girl from two slapped him on the back lightly, laughing and pulling his focus back to the present.

"What did the forest ever do to you?" He rolled his eyes but couldn't help the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. He thought that if they were in another place, another situation, that the two of them would probably be friends.

"No but seriously, what's up? You tired of us already?" She sat down next to him, her teasing gin growing concerned. He wondered when Clove had begun to think of him as a friend too.

"I think I'm just tired in general." Peeta ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to smile back at her.

"Aw, is little Lover Boy missing his grubby little home in twelve?" Cato cooed, strutting over to where the two were sat. "Or is he missing his girlfriend?" which was followed by the token giggle from Glimmer and Marvel which always seemed to spur the boy on.

"Or maybe… maybe he's just upset because he'll never see his mommy and daddy ever again?" He frowned falsely, pretending his eyes were leaking with tears, and turned round to laugh with his devoted disciples while Peeta rose quickly, suddenly angry. He took Cato's shirt between his hands, forcefully yanking the boy forwards. He wasn't going to stand for this, Cato thinking he could push him around and bully him into submission. It would make him appear weak, and apart from that, he just wasn't in the fucking mood.

"Oh but I am going to see my parents again." He snarled. "When I win." He tightened his grip on Cato's shirt. "And for the last time, she is _not_ my girlfriend."

Cato looked angrier than he'd ever seen him, but Peeta couldn't even bring himself to feel scared anymore. If Cato attacked him, he could defend himself. He could feel the heavy knife weighing down his inner pocket and this gave him even more courage. The two of them were mere inches apart, their faces so close that Peeta could feel Cato's breath on his cheek in angry pants. They were just waiting to see who would make the first move.

"Okay macho men." Clove stood up. "Break it up." They both turned to glare at her. This wasn't her fight. She was calmly surveying them both, and she tossed a rock into the air and caught it before continuing. "You're both strong. We get it. That's why we need the both of you alive."

She shook her head and looked at Cato disapprovingly, knowing that she was probably the only person on the planet that could without worrying about being impaled on the end of his sword.

"Cato, you need to stop acting as if Peeta isn't part of the alliance, because he is. He's one of us. We've all agreed on it and you're going to have to get used to it. I like Peeta. You need to stop trying to provoke him all the time and learn to get along." She turned to Peeta. "The same goes for you Peeta. You've just got to stop letting him get to you."

She looked at the boys expectantly and gestured with her hands.

Peeta wondered for a moment, nonplussed at the gesture until finally he understood, and stuck his hand out to Cato, taking the glare off his face in favour of sporting his peaceable blank mask. Cato sighed in exasperation and grabbed the proffered hand after Clove pointedly nudged him.

"What?" He looked at his district partner irately, and she raised her eyebrows. At this he actually pouted, the action reminding Peeta of the cute little stray boy in twelve that he'd sneak bits of bread to when his mother wasn't looking.

Cato sighed again as Clove didn't budge, pulling Peeta back to reality again.

"Sorry twelve." He mumbled with a glare. Peeta had to fight back a smirk, feeling rather happy with himself until he caught Clove shift her waiting eyes on to him, expecting him to do the same. He smiled a little and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her.

"Sorry Cato."

The boy growled a little under his breath and released Peeta's hand. Peeta was momentarily struck with how soft his hand was compared to Katniss' calloused ones were the other day on the chariot. Cato's felt completely different in his own. At least this time his fingers didn't feel like they were about to drop off, he thought ruefully.

"Well, if she's not your girlfriend..." Clove grinned micheivously. "You won't mind if we go and look for her, right?"

Cato visibly brightened at this, smiling with a predatory gleam in his eyes. Peeta matched his smirk.

"Of course not." He picked up the larger and showier of the two knives lay on the ground. "Take the bow." He turned to Glimmer, the only one without a distinct weapon of choice. "If that doesn't piss her off, I don't know what will."

* * *

All five of them were exhausted, throats dry, eyes sore and feet aching. They'd been walking for hours, fruitlessly scanning the shadows of the forest in search of Katniss. With every step they took in the wrong direction, Cato became increasingly frustrated. He hadn't expected the damn girl to be so evasive.

Of course, it didn't help that Glimmer had been hanging off his arm like a limpet for the past hour, simpering away like he actually gave a crap about what she had to say. He didn't. Yet, In spite of his repeated attempts to shake her off, she didn't seem able to comprehend that.

At least she was persistent.

It was growing dark when Cato finally snapped. His patience had reached its limit about five kilometers ago, around about the last time Peeta had reassured him that they'd find her eventually, just as long as they looked a little longer and a bit harder and a whole lot further away than he'd intended to when they'd started.

"Get the hell off me," he instructed Glimmer, yanking his arm out of her grip when she ignored him. He could practically feel his blood boiling under his grimy skin. Rounding on Peeta, he grabbed a fistful of the boy's shirt and dragged him in close. "Where the hell is she, Twelve? We've been looking all day and we still haven't found her!"

"I don't know." Peeta shrugged back at the other boy, ignoring Cato's threatening stance and their close proximity to one another. This felt like déjà vu. So much for their uneasy truce. "In case you haven't noticed, Cato, I've been with you since we left the Cornucopia. I know where she is just about as much as you do."

"But Cato doesn't know where she is," Glimmer pointed out bluntly, flipping her hair over her shoulder and smiling like she'd said something impressive.

Clove rolled her eyes. "That's the point he's trying to make, dumbass."

The blond girl opened her mouth to say something back, but Cato interrupted her. "You're meant to know where she is," he insisted. "What use are you if you can't find her?"

"How would I know where she is? I'm not your personal tracking device," Peeta snapped, forcefully shoving the other boy away from him. Cato stumbled, but managed to keep his footing. "I thought we'd cleared this up yesterday. We both know I'm not with you just to help you find her. You need my skills, I need yours. Quit talking down to me already!"

"Why should I? It's not like you've earned my respect. All you've done is waste a day leading us on this pointless chase around the whole arena. If I didn't know better, I'd say you weren't trying to help us at all!"

There was a silence. "I'm not trying to protect her, if that's what you think." Peeta muttered, kicking out at a small pebble in frustration. It skipped angrily across the dusty path in three hard staccato beats. "I don't know where she is, that's all. Just because I trained with her, doesn't mean I know her whole game plan. All I can do is guess, and my guess is she'd want to get as far away from you as she could."

"I told you we shouldn't have kept him," Cato huffed at the other Careers.

This time it was Marvel who intervened. "Would you get over it already, Cato? You're acting like a little kid. He's with us now, so either deal with it or shut the hell up."

At this, the boy looked murderous, jaw clenching as his hand instinctively reached towards his sword. Marvel's eyes widened at this and he took a few steps back, not-so-subtly increasing the distance between the two of them. There was a tense pause, then Clove burst out laughing.

"Okay tough man, I think that's enough," she told Cato, affectionately patting him on the shoulder, and pretending not to notice when he flinched away from her touch. "It's getting late, we should head back to camp and rest up for the night. We'll find the girl tomorrow."

After a brief moment, the boy nodded grudgingly in agreement, spinning on his heel and storming away in the direction they had come from. Glimmer happily skipped on after him, making futile attempts to reattach herself to his right arm. Marvel breathed a sigh of relief before following them.

Peeta exchanged a small smile with Clove. He couldn't help but feel grateful that she always knew exactly how to deal with the other boy when he flew off the handle.

* * *

The artificial moon sailed high in the sky when they arrived back at camp, and the boy from 3 sat hunched over a dwindling fire, eyes were red and bloodshot from his lack of sleep. He was exhausted but he knew better than to fall asleep when he was on guard duty, no matter how tired he was. Cato would've killed him.

As soon as she saw him, Clove ushered him into the tent, relieving him of his duties so that he could rest. Marvel yawned loudly, stretching his long arms above his head then followed him in soon after. Glimmer was next to go, mumbling something about the cold.

"Maybe you should try wearing a few more layers of clothing," Cato had mumbled in reply, and Peeta chuckled lightly. As he did so, the other boy turned towards him curiously.

"Which of you two is gonna keep watch?" Clove asked suddenly, sticking her head back out through the tent flap.

Peeta shrugged, still buzzed from the adrenaline of the day. "I'll do it. I'm not tired."

He assumed that Cato would go and get some rest too, not expecting anyone else to want to keep watch. Which was why he was surprised that the boy didn't move. "I'm not tired either," he said. "I don't mind keeping watch."

"No, that's okay, I got it." Peeta insisted, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with the other boy. He sat down heavily on the hard floor and started to remake the fire to keep him (and the others) warm, preparing himself for the long night ahead.

"I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway," replied Cato, flopping down on the other side of the fire and tossing a few stray branches into the growing flame.

"Do tonight's watch together, then." Clove suggested with a smirk. "But please, at least try not to kill each other. If I wake up to any corpses in the morning, I'll hunt you down and slaughter you." Her words were teasing but her tone was dead serious, and both boys nodded nervously. Satisfied by this, she disappeared back into the tent.

"Looks like it's me and you for the night, Lover Boy." Cato added as soon as she was out of earshot, his patronizing endearment uttered with the mocking edge to his tone that he saved only for Peeta.

"How many times do I have to say it?" Peeta muttered, snapping a stray twig in half. "I'm not her lover. I don't even like her as a friend all too much." He glared down at the broken twig. "You know what?" He snapped the twig into quarters. "Maybe I thought you would be trusting enough to know that I'm one of you already. That you don't have to baby me. I can do a watch on my own." He threw the twig pieces onto the fire. "And you don't have to use that tone with me, Cato, I know how you think of me, okay? That I'm not good enough for your group. Just say it in the future."

The older boy sat down facing him, on the other side of the fire, saying nothing. Peeta ran his hands through his hair and sighed exasperatedly. The person he sought approval from the most was the one he still hadn't won it from.

He wasn't even sure why he wanted Cato's approval so much. Probably because his tactic for the arena was to basically idolize him, mirror him, become more like him.

"Then how come you told the whole world you liked her?" Cato's question took him by surprise. He thought Cato would be angry, and at this moment he seemed calm, if not plainly inquisitive.

"Sponsors." He laughed dryly. "Though what was the point if I was just going to deny it as soon as I got in the arena?" Addressing the sky, he laughed shortly and gave a slight shake of his head. "Flawed plan there, Haymitch?" He looked over at Cato.

He narrowed his eyes. "So you really weren't trying to protect her today?"

"I already told you I wasn't!" Peeta pulled his knees up to his chest, circling his arms around them and propping his chin on top. "I wouldn't protect her, not here. Even if I did love her, I wouldn't lay down my life for her like that. In this arena she's my opponent, and I've got to beat her or die trying. Saving her just isn't on the agenda."

The other boy was watching him curiously again, as if Peeta were a puzzle that he couldn't quite comprehend. "Could you kill her?" he asked after a while.

"I don't know," Peeta admitted, laughing dryly. "It's different with her… She's not some faceless person I just met. I know her. I know her family." He bit down on his lip to stop himself from talking, worried that the words on the tip of his tongue would spill out, make him look weak, just like Cato wanted him to.

"There. Are you happy now?" he raised an eyebrow at the other boy. "Is that what you want me to say? So what, I'll admit it. I don't want to kill her. But that doesn't mean that I won't."

"Clove," Cato murmured softly. "It won't be easy for me to kill Clove." The fact that he still would kill her in spite of this went unsaid. In that respect, he was stronger than Peeta was.

"You don't have to kill her. When we find her, I'll do it." Cato offered the other boy a small smile. "I'll make it quick and painless, I promise."

"Thank you," Peeta replied earnestly, knowing that this was the best the other boy could do for the girl. He couldn't spare her life, but he could spare her unnecessary pain. In the dark stillness of the night, he could almost convince himself that the two of them were getting along. Clove would be proud.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry I thought you were together, though. It was your own fault if not your mentors." Cato said bluntly, locking eyes with Peeta as he breached the comfortable silence that had settled over them. "But I will stop calling you Lover Boy. It makes me think of that stupid fire girl anyway. She gives me a headache. You're slightly better than her, at least."

Peeta laughed. "Was that meant to be a compliment?"

"No," he lied, lips twitching up as the beginnings of a smile began to appear on his face. "Just don't let that go to your head, Peeta." He dragged the name out slowly, seeming to taste it on the tip of his tongue. "Is that better?" Cato smirked.

"Yes." Peeta couldn't help the smile that appeared on his face. Cato wasn't all too bad when he was like this, quiet and collected, not trying so to prove his power to people.

"Anyway, isn't Lover Boy a more appropriate name for you?" He daringly teased, nodding towards the tent where Glimmer slept. The girl in question irritated Peeta no end. She would always distract Cato when they were meant to be doing a job, and her attempts at flirting with the boy were getting tiresome, even for Peeta. He wondered if Cato enjoyed them.

"Not one bit." He laughed out loud, his head rocking back to stare at the sky. "In fact, I'd say you like your fire girl more than I like that bimbo." He flashed a quick grin, a real one, at Peeta now. "Her flirting is cute though, right?"

"I'd say it was more irritating," Peeta flicked the twig at Cato, emboldened by their new communication level. "In fact, more than irritating. I think it's reached higher levels than that. It makes me want to chew my own arm off."

Cato laughed hard this time, forced to muffle it on his arm.

"Thanks for the demonstration." Peeta quipped, sending a wider smile in the other boy's direction. He paused for a moment, considering, and then launched into the best Glimmer impression he could manage. "Oh Cato!" he crooned, fluttering his eyelashes stupidly. "Cato, you're perfect, let me touch you!" He flailed around, making random lunges for the boy. In that moment, he hardly even remembered he was in the Hunger Games talking to his enemy. He couldn't help it. This was the most fun he'd had in a while.

"Stop!" Cato laughed loudly, batting Peeta's hands away. "You'll wake up the others... Or I will in any case." He calmed himself down and weighed Peeta up before continuing. "You're alright, Peeta. I mean… Look, don't take that to mean that I'm going to be any easier on you or act like you're my best friend in the world or anything…" He barked a laugh. "But you've earned my respect, I guess. We're on first-name basis now, right?"

As he said this, he looked Peeta directly in the eye, and Peeta swore he felt him scan all of his thoughts and feelings. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach, one that seemed like his nervous butterflies flying around. Not that he was nervous. In answer to Cato's question, he nodded.

Then suddenly Cato offered his fist out to him. Peeta looked at him, confused. What in the world was he doing? After a moment of thought, Peeta stuck out his own fist in midair in attempt to copy him without losing face.

The boy looked at Peeta's proferred fist and burst out into laughter once more. Peeta lingered with his fist, unsure of himself. "What? What did I do?"

Cato looked up at him and giggled, a totally alien sound coming from the monstrous boy that sat opposite him. "You're supposed to touch fists," he explained. "It's like...a sign of respect and, well, uh, friendship?" Peeta simply stared, confused still.

"Come here." Cato grabbed his fist and touched it lightly against his own, holding on to Peeta's wrist with the other hand as he bumped their knuckles together. Cato smiled, and it looked so genuine, such a sweet smile that for a minute Peeta just stared at him, wondering how such an arrogant boy could have such a nice side underneath.

He became aware of Cato's fingers lingering on his wrist only when they were removed when he felt his wrist go cold, exposed once again to the cold night air. He rubbed over the skin that Cato's hand hand encircled absently, thinking of how he missed the contact. Wait, what? He laughed at himself inwardly. This arena was driving him insane.

It was a few seconds before he replied to Cato. "So we are friends then." He grinned.

"If that's what you want to call it." The other boy shrugged. "I prefer allies."

"I prefer friends."

There was a small pause, a moment of silence and understanding. Then they both looked at each other and smiled.

* * *

A few hours before dawn, just as the skies were beginning to lighten, the two boys decided to wake up one of the others to take over as look out. They were sat side by side, both leaning heavily against a thick tree trunk and gazing into the few remaining embers of their fire. By now, they were too tired to keep it alight.

"I say we wake up Glimmer," Cato suggested around a yawn, letting his head drop to rest on the other boy's shoulder. "The less energy she has during the day, the better." Peeta snorted.

"Worried that she'll try and molest you again?" Peeta teased, shifting in place to try and get the feeling back into his numb legs. Cato laughed, nodding, his soft blond hair tickling lightly against the bare skin on Peeta's neck. "Okay, come on then." He nudged Cato gently. "Let's go get her up so we can get some sleep."

Peeta made to get up but the other boy whined in protest, slinging a heavy arm across his shoulders to hold him in place. "No, not yet. 'M comfy." he mumbled pathetically.

Rolling his eyes, Peeta meanly shoved the other boy off him. Cato slumped to the side, his muscles too relaxed to hold his body upright. He blinked hard as he hit the floor, trying to wake himself up but not quite managing. Grabbing his hand, Peeta pulled the tired boy to his feet and half-led-half-carried him to the tent, smiling at the thought of how mortified Cato would be when he was fully awake.

"Glimmer," he whispered as he set Cato down on the floor. The girl stirred. "Glimmer!" he repeated more sharply, kicking her lightly in the side. She jerked awake.

"Wha?" She sat bolt upright, glancing around blearily.

"Would you take the next watch so we can get some sleep?" Peeta asked her, trying his best to smile at her in a friendly manner. It probably came out as more of a grimace. "Cato said that you wouldn't mind doing it for him."

She perked up considerably at the mere mention of the boy's name, giggling. "Oh, well in that case, it would be no trouble at all," she told Peeta, slinking out of her sleeping bag. He couldn't help but blush, quickly averting his eyes when he noticed she was clad in only her underwear. She could've at least warned him! He shuddered, covering his eyes with his hands as she got ready to go outside in the cold air.

To say he was relived when the girl pulled on some clothes, grabbed her bow and left would be a complete understatement.

Cato still lay sprawled across the floor where Peeta had dropped him, his limbs splayed out and his head lolling to one side at a weird angle. He was already asleep, arms hugging his own chest to ward off the chill. Without thinking about it, Peeta grabbed the boy's sleeping bag from where it was rolled up in the corner and unzipped it, spreading it out over him like a blanket. After that, he crawled into his own sleeping bag and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost instantly.

* * *

It seemed like Peeta had only just shut his eyes when the sunlight streaming in from the open tent flaps woke him up. The floor beneath him was bumpy and hard, and he'd had to sleep twisted around on himself because the space was so cramped. A crick had formed in his neck, giving a painful protest when he tried to sit up straight. He sighed, ignoring the pain as best he could. It would fade eventually.

Turning his head slowly, cautiously so as not to injure the tender muscles further, he glanced around. About a foot away Marvel was still fast asleep and snoring, curled up tightly around his spear like it was a substitute for a stuffed toy. Peeta had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing. The boy from 3 was sleeping upright beside him, propped up against the thick metal pole of the tent. He seemed small and fragile curled in on himself like that, completely defenseless against the ruthless Careers.

Peeta looked away quickly. Now was not the time for sympathy. Shaking his head at his own stupidity then wincing at the sharp shoot of pain that followed, he distracted himself by scrambling out of his sleeping bag and crawling through the mouth of the tent in search of the other three.

"Morning, sunshine!" Clove called to him, waving. She was sat a few meters away roasting an ugly tree frog over a small fire. "Do you want breakfast?"

Deciding that it was too early to attempt a proper conversation, Peeta merely nodded. "You never offer to cook for me," grumbled a voice from behind a tree, then seconds later Cato emerged wearing an accusatory scowl. "I knew he was your favourite."

"I don't have favourites," Clove replied lazily, not even looking up. The blond boy pretended to look wounded by this, and Peeta laughed. The girl looked between the two of them, and then grinned widely. "I'm glad to see you two didn't kill each other last night."

"Yeah. It was a close call back there, but I decided to spare him." Peeta looked indignant at this, and Cato smirked. "Hey," he said, suddenly glancing around. "Where's Glimmer?"

Clove shrugged, pulling the frog's roasted body from the point of her hand-made spit and beginning to divide it up into smaller chunks using her knife. "I think she went to wash down in the river. Apparently her hair was dirty or something, and heaven forbid she looks bad in front of the cameras."

As if on cue, Glimmer burst out from a nearby cluster of trees. She'd obviously run straight out of the river, her stark naked body dripping with water as she gasped for breath.

Cato caught sight of her and screamed. "My eyes!" he yelled, balling his hand up into fists and using them to obstruct his vision. "They're burning! Quick, someone help me!"

"I've just heard something!" Glimmer yelled over him wildly. She was so caught up in the moment that she looked completely deranged, eyes wide and excited and hair tangled messily around her face. "I think someone is heading down to the river! I could hear them coming when I was washing. It could be Katniss!"

"We'd better go and check that out," Clove suggested calmly, as if her friends ran up to her naked every day. "I'll wake Marvel up. Glimmer, you might want to cover yourself up a little." She paused, eyeing the girl with disdain. "Actually, knowing you, you might not…"

From behind his hands, which were still clapped down firmly over his eyes, Cato laughed.

What made everything that little bit more awkward was the fact that Glimmer didn't seem to be even slightly embarrassed by her nudity. She just stood there, hands resting defiantly on her hips, chest pushed out and hips cocked to the right. Peeta didn't know where to look.

"Here, take this." Quickly yanking the zipper down on his jacket and tugging it off, he passed the material to her. "Put it on until we go back and find your stuff later."

"Oh, thank you Peeta!" she smiled at him widely, slipping into it easily. It was huge on her, down to her knees. Thank god. "It's so nice to know there are men out there who are true gentlemen, ones that don't just want to admire my beauty."

"It's okay Cato, you can come out now." Peeta murmured after a second, offering the other boy a comforting pat on the back although mocking smirk firmly in place. Cato scoffed at this, cautiously peering out between his fingers in case (by some horrible turn of events) she was still naked. That was something he certainly never wanted to witness again.

"Did I miss something?" Marvel appeared from the tent, rubbing a hand across his bleary eyes in an attempt to wake himself up. He did a double take when he saw Glimmer, jaw dropping open slightly at the sight of her bare legs.

"You're such a letch," Clove accused him before snapping into organization mode. "I told Three to guard our stuff for the day. Peeta, get that frog I cooked and take it with you, we can eat it on the way for breakfast. Cato, go get your sword and Glimmer, make sure you bring your bow. Marvel, your spear is over there," She pointed to the mouth of the tent where he'd left it. "We're leaving in five minutes, so get on with it."

"She's such a control freak," Cato muttered quietly to Peeta as the two of them walked away.

"I heard that!" she called back indignantly, and Peeta laughed.

* * *

"Why would he give her his jacket?" Cato mused to Clove. They were walking together a few paces behind the couple in question, and he couldn't help but notice the way that stupid girl was clinging on to Peeta, pretending to stumble into him and grasping on to his arm 'for balance' at every given opportunity.

"Because you were screaming like a little girl when you saw her and her lady parts." Clove smirked, and Cato sighed loudly. She turned to glare at him, irritated. "If you sigh one more time, I swear I'm going to murder you right here and right now."

Cato blinked back at her. "I wasn't sighing!" he insisted. "Besides, I got an eleven," he smiled smugly, knowing she had been annoyed when he had been awarded a higher score than her. "You're just a ten. You couldn't kill me even if you wanted to."

"She could too!" Peeta back called over his shoulder with a teasing smile. Glimmer simpered beside him. Up ahead, Marvel laughed in agreement. Cato had an overwhelming urge to run his sword right through the lot of them. Beside him, Clove shot him a knowing smirk.

"What?" He snapped, meeting her stare with a challenging one of his own.

She shrugged casually, still grinning. "Oh, it's nothing."

A week ago, none of them would have dared to even breathe too loudly near him, but now look at them. Teasing him, laughing at him and making jokes at his expense… It was then he realized that none of them were scared of him any more. Damn it.

"Hey, can you hear that?" Marvel said suddenly, stopping in his tracks and listening. The light mood that had surrounded them disappeared instantly. They all stood still, ears pricked. They were near the river, and coming from a few meters away there was the unmistakable sound of water splashing and someone panting, clearly out of breath.

"I told you!" Glimmer exclaimed triumphantly. "I bet it's that Katni—"

"Shhh!" Clove cut her off mid-sentence by clapping a dirty hand around her mouth. "You have to be quiet or she'll hear us coming and get away."

Pushing through the trees, they were delighted when the girl they sought after came into view. Her face was red and dirty, her hair tangled and charred and she seemed to be in excruciating pain, whimpering softly as she stared down at her leg. Even through the water it was clear to see that the skin there was swollen and red, burnt and already blistering.

This was no time for sympathy, Peeta reminded himself.

The Careers approached her slowly, silently, edging towards her with their weapons wielded. She was on the other side of the riverbank, head lolling back against the soft earth there as the water lapped at her injured skin. If they could make it to the waterside without her noticing, they'd be well within firing range to kill her instantly.

For a minute, Peeta thought that this plan was going to work, that Katniss would be dead in a minute. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about that. Maybe he just wasn't supposed to feel anything. Then Marvel stepped on a twig, snapping it. The splintering sound made Katniss' head jerk up, her eyes widening when she spotted the five of them.

She was on her feet almost instantly, scrambling up the riverbank and running away. Cato cursed loudly, cuffing Marvel across the back of his head angrily. "You idiot!"

Peeta rolled his eyes, ignoring the boy's irritation in favour of wading across the river. "Don't give up just yet. She's injured, so she won't be able to get too far. C'mon."

He didn't know why he was so surprised when the others actually followed him.

* * *

Peeta was still surprised at how quickly the people he had come to think of as friends could change, becoming ruthless killing machines as soon as they saw her. They prowled through the forest, hunting her down in earnest now, ready to take her life.

She was already half way up a tree when one of them spotted her, and within a minute the five of them quickly had her surrounded at the base of the tree. "We've got you," Clove called up to her. "You might as well get this over with."

"We're gonna kill you!" Glimmer taunted, laughing and jeering at the girl. Marvel was the only person who joined in. Katniss didn't even look down, just continued climbing. Peeta sighed. He'd known this wouldn't be an easy kill.

Turning to Marvel, Cato addressed him shortly. "Shut up and throw your spear."

"I can't," the boy shook his head firmly. "There are too many branches in the way, it would just get stuck up there. This is the only weapon I have, I can't afford to lose it."

"Fine. I'll throw a knife." Clove stepped in, rummaging through her pockets for one, then trying again when she couldn't find one in there. "Wait, I can't find any!" her face turned pale as she realized she was completely unarmed. If they hadn't been in the middle of a hunt, Peeta would have laughed at the irony of it – the girl who organized all of them so carefully had failed to even bring her own weapon. How stupid.

Glimmer huffed in frustration at their ineptness, raising her bow in roughly the right direction and firing off an arrow. It landed about three meters wide of the mark, and the other girl laughed. "Maybe you should throw the sword!" she taunted from the treetop, visibly more confident as she realized she had already evaded three of the five of them.

Clove bit her lip, trying to figure out what they should do next. "One of us should go up there, finish the job face to face. It's quickest that way."

Cato looked to Peeta, remembering the promise he had made him the night before when he assured the boy that he'd be the one to kill the girl, quick and painless. Without thinking about it any further, he said, "I'll do it."

"There's no point," Peeta said, shaking his head. "If she's armed, she'll be able to defend her position more easily than you could attack it, you'd only get hurt. Let's just stay down here and wait her out. She's gotta come down some time, right? It's either that or starve to death. We'll just kill her then."

They all looked impressed that he'd come up with this plan, agreeing to it easily. "I knew there was a reason I kept you," Clove smiled at him proudly.

* * *

It got late quickly. The clearing around the tree was small and cramped and, due to the way the tree roots were protruding out through the ground, there was only enough room for the four of them to sleep side by side. Not wanting to spend the night beside Peeta (worried that it might be awkward after the night before), Cato had strategically placed himself on the end of the row. Of course, Glimmer wasn't far behind him.

"Cato, I'm cold," she complained, curling up into his side. He shifted away as best he could.

"That's your own fault for taking your clothes off, then, isn't it?" he snapped. "What sort of idiot leaves the only clothes they have on the floor and then takes off without them? It would've only taken you a minute to put them on, and even less time to just pick them up and carry them with you!"

"Well, I had to come and warn you about her, didn't I?" Glimmer huffed indignantly. "You'd never have found her if it wasn't for me."

While this was true, Cato didn't want to admit it. If he did, the girl would probably take it to be praise. He definitely didn't want that. To avoid discussing the matter further, he shifted away a little more and ignored her.

* * *

The first thing Peeta noticed when he woke up was the eerie silence that surrounded the small clearing. It was quiet enough that he could hear the sound of the other four breathing slowly, deeply, out of sync. The second thing he noticed was the way Glimmer was tucked up at Cato's side, head resting on his shoulder and arm wound tight around his chest. The third thing was the gigantic nest of wasps that was about to fall down on top of them.

Wait, what?

His sleepy mind jerked awake and he shoved Clove hard in the side, grabbing her hand and pulling her upright before she even had time to open her eyes. He'd only managed to stagger a few steps away with her when the nest hit the ground, exploding into the place they had formerly lain.

Ever the wiser of the two, Clove ran like hell away from them as soon as she was alert enough to realize what was going on. Marvel followed her quickly, rolling to the side and out of the danger with only a few stings on him, spear still clutched firmly in his hands. Peeta on the other hand found himself frozen in place, eyes locked on Cato.

The boy was on his feet, ready to escape, but he couldn't. Not with Glimmer clinging to him like a dead weight and shrieking in his ear. Try as he might, he wasn't able to shake himself free of the girl's vice-like grip. He had no choice but to try and carry her out with him, but their progress was too slow together. They wouldn't have gotten away.

In a panic, Peeta lunged forward, back into the killer crowd of wasps that buzzed around him. He felt a sharp shooting pain as one of them stung him, but he ignored it. It wasn't the time to get distracted by a little bit of pain. He had a life to save, here. Ripping Glimmer away from Cato, he tossed her carelessly to the ground and grabbed hold of the other boy's wrist, tugging him out of the swarm.

They could still hear her blood curdling screams as they ran, Peeta dragging Cato behind him as the boy stumbled about. He had been stung badly, his skin already turning red and swollen. Peeta didn't know where he was going, but for now 'as far away from there as we can get' seemed adequate. He'd find the others again later.

Suddenly the river was back in sight and the two of them crashed into it loudly, gasping for breath. The other boy seemed to sink into the water, eyes slipping shut. His breathing became shallower almost at once.

Peeta was at his side in an instant, propping him up, checking his pulse rate. "No. No, no way. You don't get to die on me. C'mon, stay with me." His voice sounded frantic, scared. "Don't you dare die from a few tiny little wasp stings. Don't even think about it. Stay with me."

"First you saved me, now you're saving him." Clove whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. He hadn't even noticed her approaching. "I didn't have you down as the knight in shining armor type." She shook her head. "I can't believe you risked your life to save him! You're so stupid. This is a competition, Peeta. We can't all come out alive."

"Shut up," he snapped back, then felt a lurch his chest when he realized how much like Cato that simple phrase made him sound. Cato, the boy who could well be dying in his arms as they spoke. "I couldn't just let you die. I can't. I still can't. I won't let him die, Clove, not now. You have to help me."

Maybe he didn't understand exactly why it meant so much to him, he just knew that it did. In that moment, the dull thump of Cato's heartbeat beneath his fingertips was the only thing that mattered.

"Okay," Clove agreed, sending him a sad little smile. "I'll help."

In the distance, a cannon sounded. Glimmer was dead.

* * *

**A/N:** Hi guys! Again, a huge thank you to all for reading! This is our longest chapter yet which is pretty exciting for us. It's kind of crazy to think that two weeks ago, we hadn't even started writing this yet! As ever, we're working on getting updates out as quickly as we can and reviews would be much appreciated. We love hearing what you guys think! Thank you, see you soon!


	8. Chapter 8

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 8**

* * *

Peeta didn't think he would ever be more thankful that Clove was in the Games and allied with him than he was at this moment in time. Somewhere along the line, either at group training or training back in Two, she'd learned about a certain type of leaf that, when mushed up, eased the pain of tracker jacker stings so much that Peeta could hardly even feel the sharp jab of pain any more. But Peeta hadn't been stung that badly, so it wasn't too bad in the first place. Cato however, was still in pain even after the leaves.

Peeta crawled over to where the boy was twitching on the ground. He'd succumbed to sleep over the past couple of hours, but kept moaning and whimpering, restless, and noticeably in pain. Peeta reached over to feel his forehead and felt it burning up, and so pulled out his water skin from his pocket before peeling Cato's sticky jacket off him. He was sweating profusely, and Peeta bit his lip. Should he take off his t-shirt? He debated for a moment before deciding. He had to just do it – Cato would literally set on fire if he didn't... a bit like Katniss. Some part of him wanted to laugh at the irony of the punishment while the other part felt sorry for her. They should have known better than to underestimate her.

He inched the t-shirt off Cato and proceeded to empty his water skin onto the boy's blistering hot torso, all the while adding leaves onto his multiple tracker jacker stings in attempt to rid him of the pain quicker. As he was working away, he didn't notice Cato opening his eyes blearily until he went to treat a sting on his neck. Their eyes met and Peeta didn't know what to do. Would Cato be mad? But the other boy just smiled at him softly.

"You already trying to get me out of my clothes?" His voice sounded awful from lack of use. Cato seemed to notice this too, frowning.

Peeta smiled. "You were burning up." He was unsure of himself. "Do you want me to get Clove, or…?"

Cato vehemently shook his head. "No. I want you to take care of me. Just you." His eyes were still slightly unfocused and Peeta realised that Cato must be still experiencing mild hallucinations, or at least he wasn't quite together. He smiled, nodded and picked up another pile of leaves.

"Okay." He said, which placated Cato for the time being. He lay down again and shut his eyes, trusting Peeta to take care of him.

Peeta felt the boy begin to drop off again and marvelled at the way their relationship had progressed along over the course of a few days. They weren't at each other's throats any more, that was for sure. He smiled at the thought as he went to fill up the water skin again. When he came back, Clove was beginning to attend to him, looking stressed and tired.

"It's okay," he smiled widely. "I got it." He bent down to finish helping to the older boy, only just catching Clove's smirk.

"What?"

"Nothing." She cleared her face. "It's just cute how close you two have become, that's all." With that she walked away.

Cute wasn't quite the word he'd use to describe their relationship. He'd be thinking more along the lines of 'dangerous' and 'life-threatening'. There was a limit to how close you could get to an ally in games like these, and he was starting to feel as if he'd already breached it. He'd grown Close to Cato and close to Clove, so much so that it pained him to think that they would have to die if he was going to live.

His chest tightened and he simply stared at Cato's peaceful expression for a few minutes. He looked so much younger in sleep, so much more innocent. In that moment he knew that as hard as it would be to kill Clove, he simply couldn't kill this boy. He wouldn't be able to do it, and the irritating thing was that his plan would all fail because he'd allowed himself to become attached to the pair from District Two. Even so, this still wouldn't spur him on to kill them. He brushed a stray lock of hair from Cato's face and tucked it behind his ear.

He'd find it harder to kill Cato than Katniss, he realised with a jolt.

Frowning, he shook his head to stop himself from analysing his feelings any further. That would only get him confused, and he had to be at the top of his game now. Instead he made the subconscious decision to focus on nursing Cato back to his full health, a necessary distraction in more ways than one. He wouldn't forgive himself if the boy died as fault of Peeta's inept care, especially when he'd asked for Peeta specifically.

"Do you want me to keep watch?" Clove asked him, wandering over to where Peeta was sat, staring at the ground and thinking.

"It's okay." He smiled. "I'm not really tired. You must have taken watch last night anyway, when we were all passed out."

Clove had been the only one unharmed by the tracker jacker venom, the only one who remained conscious throughout the night. As they had fallen into an uneasy and painful sleep-like state, she had sat with them and tended to them as best she could, sending the boy from Three out into the darkness to gather the leaves to help her.

Peeta was almost surprised that the boy had returned. He could have easily escaped while three out of four of them were down, but he hadn't. Perhaps the idea of defying them was so incomprehensible to his mind that the idea hadn't even struck him. Maybe he thought it was too dangerous, didn't know that his best chance of survival was as far from them as he could get but as long as he was with them, he was nothing more than a sitting duck. As soon as he was no longer of any use, he'd be killed. Luckily for him, he'd proven himself to be quite useful thus far. That was the only reason his heart still beat softly in his chest.

"Yeah..." She laughed lightly, pulling him out of his musings. "I couldn't have slept anyway. I was too worried about you guys." Though she said guys, Peeta was nearly certain that the grouping didn't include Marvel. He and Cato and Clove had formed a stronger alliance than the one with the District One boy without even trying.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." His gaze drifted over to Cato. "I guess I feel the same."

Clove smiled at him sadly. Maybe she was thinking about how they couldn't all survive, and that they would only be friends for a couple of weeks more at the most. That she might have to kill him. But she didn't say any of that. She just reached out her hand to ruffle Peeta's hair.

Without deliberating, he stood up wordlessly and hugged her. He felt like she was the best friend he'd had for a while, if ever. They clung to each other for several minutes, anchoring themselves to one another, and when they broke apart it was all too obvious that the two of them were thinking the same thing from the slight glaze of their eyes. Neither allowed a tear to escape though, simply bidding one another goodnight with somewhat watery smiles.

He was struck just then with how much he hated the games. Anger was building up inside him, tongues of fire lapping at his gut until he saw Cato shuffle in his sleep, and a scared whimper emerge from his lips. The anger dissipated quicker than it had arrived, and all he felt now was an overwhelming desire to help him. He shuffled to the boy quickly, concerned, gauging his temperature to see if he needed a blanket when the older boy woke up.

"Peeta?" He asked, confused. "What are you doing?" He was truly awake this time, his eyes rid of the unfocused look they had possessed earlier.

"You got stung by tracker jackers..." Peeta looked at him and smiled. "I was just looking after you. As I've been doing all day, at your own special request." He rolled his eyes while still smiling down at him.

Cato groaned a little out of embarrassment as he recalled his hallucination-state. "Oh yeah," He laughed a little. "Well... thank you." He said sincerely, and smiled wide at Peeta. "But could you pass me a jacket? I'm absolutely freezing."

This reminded Peeta that Glimmer had still been clad in his jacket when she died and he groaned quietly at this. There was no chance that the Capitol wouldn't have removed her corpse by now, so there was no way he could get it back. He'd have to spend the rest of the games defenseless against the cold. Stupid Glimmer, a hindrance even in death.

Pushing his own problems aside, he returned his thoughts to the task at hand. He could worry about himself later.

He'd replaced Cato's t-shirt a few hours ago, as he had begun to cool rapidly, but left the second layer off as a precaution in case his fever picked up again. At the request, he fetched Cato his jacket dutifully and sat down next to him, watching as the boy clumsily tugged it on again. He'd misjudged his location and sat maybe a little too close for comfort, and he found himself shifting a little awkwardly before leaving it be. Hopefully the other boy wouldn't find it too weird. Besides, it was warmer this way, and Peeta could use all the warmth he could get.

It wasn't until they both turned round to look at one another that he realised quite how close they were. Peeta had never been this close to anyone before, sans the spattering of fights he'd had with Cato over the past few days. The atmosphere was completely different now, though. Peeta was glad that this time they weren't mid-fight.

"Why did you look after me?" Cato blurted after a moment. Instantly after saying it, his expression became apprehensive, as if he regretted even asking the question.

"You asked me to." Peeta said simply, but the look on the other boy's face told him that wasn't enough. "And, well, I don't want you to die. You're my strongest ally." He paused before adding "More than that. You're my friend and I'm sure you would've done the same for me."

"I'm sure I wouldn't have," the boy replied honestly. Peeta smiled back at him. The two looked at each other for what could have only been a minute, but it seemed to last forever.

"I don't want you to die either." Cato whispered after a long stretch of silence, holding Peeta's gaze so that they were staring right into one another's eyes. It probably should have been awkward, but somehow it wasn't.

Suddenly, Cato was leaning forward, hesitantly drawing closer. Peeta found himself unable to move, somehow entranced by other boy's eyes. They were a light, baby blue, so soft and gentle looking that he wondered how he'd never noticed that before, how he ever thought that this boy was deadly. The eyes gave away the person who lay underneath the cold facade.

Then, before he knew it, Cato's lips were at his own. Peeta only hesitated for a fraction of a second, though that was enough for Cato to begin to pull away, before he delved into the kiss, his hand reaching up to wrap around the other boy's neck and hold him firmly in place.

He'd never kissed anyone before, and it felt strange, slow and sweet. Warm. There was an undercurrent of something there, something that made this more than a gentle press of lips together, so much so that Peeta couldn't even think. He just felt.

In this moment, the outside world didn't exist. The two boys weren't in a competition for their lives. They were just ordinary teenagers, caught up in each other, starved of affection to the point that this felt right. It felt like they belonged.

They were just trying to make it through the day.

* * *

Peeta didn't notice that he'd fallen asleep, but when he awoke the next morning he was cold and began to shiver. Once again he cursed Glimmer for his lack of jacket. The air around him was frosty, and his clothes were a little damp and muddy from the light spattering's of rain the night before. He should've slept in the tent.

Looking about him, he realised that he was alone. Everybody else was probably inside in the dry warmth of their sleeping bags, still sound asleep. Well, everybody except for Cato, who had also slept outside. Where was he?

He bit his lip. He was willing to bet that the other boy regretted last night, and that was why he was nowhere to be seen. He hugged his arms tightly around his chest. It wasn't like it had been a big deal or anything. For all he knew, Cato was still hallucinating from the tracker jacker stings when he kissed him.

This realization crashed around his shoulders like a ton of bricks. Of course.

Standing up quickly, he decided it was time to wake Clove up. He'd just have to ignore Cato as much as he could for the best part of the day and hope the boy didn't remember the previous night. Even if he did, perhaps Peeta would be able to convince him that it had been nothing more than a hallucination brought about by the venom.

He was just about to reach into the tent when Marvel jumped out of it, his expression hostile. "What are you doing?" the boy demanded. Peeta wondered for a second why he was acting like he'd been offended.

"I was gonna wake up Clove." He stared at Marvel, nonplussed. What was wrong with him? He'd had a whole night's sleep for two nights running, unlike some other people.

Marvel simply sneered at him before clearing out of the way. What the hell was his problem? Peeta scowled after him. He guessed it was because the time when the Careers would break apart and fight to the death was edging closer. Maybe Marvel had just decided to start the un-pleasantries sooner rather than later. Or maybe he'd realised he was the outsider in the pack now that Glimmer was gone.

Well, except from Three.

Still a little bemused, he ducked into the tent. Clove looked so small in sleep, her lithe body curled up in her sleeping bag. The younger boy was close by her side, his head resting gently on her shoulder. For some reason, the little kid trusted her more than he did any of the others. He shouldn't, though. Clove was just as deadly.

Peeta knelt down and shook her shoulder until she opened one eye blearily. "It can't already be time to wake up?" She complained, a disappointed look passing over her face that made Peeta laugh.

"I'm sorry, sleeping beauty." He winked at her. "But yes. So move!"

She got up a little groggily but soon livened up when she saw the weather conditions had improved a bit, the sun peeking out through cracks in the clouds. How long would it be until that was changed? Not even the weather here was predictable and certain, it was subject to change at the flick of a switch or the press of a button. The only thing the Careers could do was try and keep with the viewers busy before the Gamemakers were forced to do something drastic to create the interest.

They'd sure created enough interest last night, Peeta thought nervously to himself. He'd let himself forget about the outside world when he'd kissed Cato. By now, that brief moment between the two that had felt so private at the time was sure to have been played out across every screen in Panem.

What would his parents think? Not even just about Cato - what would his parents think about his supposed ruthlessness in terms of killing tributes, hunting them down like they were prey and laughing as their faces were projected into the night's sky alongside the anthem. Would his parents realise that this was all a part of his act, his bid for sponsors and survival? He didn't know.

One thing was certain, though: the people back in Twelve would be disapproving of his alliance with the Careers, never mind his acting like one of them. From behind their screens in the warm and welcome comfort of their own homes, it's difficult for them to understand. This was a game of survival. If he didn't survive, why would what they thought even matter?

* * *

About an hour after waking, there was still no sign of Cato. Peeta was beginning to worry, pacing up and down the clearing in between their tent and the small fire. He sighed once, then once again. Clove was pointedly ignoring him, sharpening her knives by the fireside. Marvel was away from the camp doing… something. Peeta didn't know what, and he hadn't bothered to ask.

The boy from Three was crouched down near their supplies, fiddling around in the dirt with a complex looking circuit. Sensing he was under scrutiny, the boy turned to Peeta, his eyes wide and nervous looking. "They're almost done," he called over meekly, as if he had to assure the other boy that he was doing his job properly.

"Good, it's nice to see that at least someone is working today." The voice came from behind him, and Peeta jumped. Spinning around, he saw Cato leaning causally against a tree, eyes focused on the young boy as he steadily avoided Peeta's gaze.

Maybe he did remember, then.

"Where were you?" Peeta demanded, unable to prevent the accusatory tone from lacing the question. "Why didn't you at least tell someone where you were going before you just took off like that?"

"You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you up." Cato shrugged, still not meeting the other boy's eyes. "I just went to wash and cool off in the river a little."

"Have you forgotten that you were stung by tracker jackers just yesterday?" Peeta snapped back, suddenly angry. "What if you'd passed out down there and got yourself killed? What would we have done then, huh? You'd be dead and there would've been nothing I could do to save you because you didn't tell me where you were going!"

"I don't need to be saved by you!" Cato spat, glaring in the vague direction of the other boy. "In fact, it's none of your concern whether I die or not. I'm just your ally. Well, for now I am anyway, but that's not going to last, is it?" He looked furious. "Do I need to remind you that this is a competition? If I had died, you'd have been grateful that you didn't have to be the one who finished me off and that would be it!"

"So you think it's okay to put yourself in dangerous positions just to prove a point? I know that we are nothing more than allies, so there was no need to do that. You're ridiculous. If you'd died out there, I swear I would've-"

"Well, I didn't die, so drop it!" Cato interrupted him, cutting him off before he could finish his sentence. Then he finally let himself look at the other boy. Peeta was flushed pink in anger, jaw clenched and eyes confused. He looked like he was lost.

At the fireside, Clove had set her knives aside and was watching the two of them carefully. Their friendship seemed to swing back and forth like a pendulum, and the calm was always short lived before the full circle swung around again. Neither of them could get control but they struggled for it anyway, fighting one minute and caring the next, hoping that somehow it would work out for them in the end.

These were The Hunger Games, though. In this arena, nothing ever goes according to plan.

"I'm going hunting," Peeta announced after a minute of frosty silence, the two of them simply staring each other down. He reached down for one of the heavy silver swords, gripping the hilt hard enough that the jagged metal left grazes across his palm. "Alone." He added firmly when Clove got to her feet, silently slipping her knife into her pocket, preparing to follow him.

She frowned at him, confused, and he wanted to tell her that he just needed some space, needed some time to think, needed to get away and clear his head for a little while. He couldn't, though. Not with Cato watching. Not with the sponsors watching. Not with the whole of Panem watching. So he just shook his head at her, hoping she'd understand as he turned and made his way off into the woods.

"Don't you think that's a little hypocritical?" Cato called after his back, and Peeta pointedly ignored him.

* * *

He stormed through some of the trees at first, hunting taking a back seat to anger. He carried on for a while to simply let off steam, glaring at the trees and grass as if they had personally offended him. He cursed himself inwardly over and over about showing affection toward Cato who obviously didn't care enough to even let him know what he was doing.

However, sometime in the next fifteen minutes, as he was calming down, he began to doubt his anger. On reflection, maybe he had been a touch overdramatic and maybe he'd overreacted slightly. Of course, it wasn't particularly his fault. He couldn't help it, he was under a lot of pressure in the arena. Half the time he didn't even understand what was going on. When everyone was together, things started to get muddled up in his mind, his priorities constantly shifting.

Alone out there in the woods, everything seemed much simpler. Fight, don't die, and then win. That's all this was really about. Sometimes it was easy to lose focus of that.

Peeta had been away from the camp for a couple of hours now, and was still empty handed. He hadn't understood how difficult hunting really was until he was out there himself. Now he knew that he'd never given Katniss quite enough credit for her skills in this field, and he was regretting never sitting her down and asking her for tips while he still had the chance, back before they needed to kill each other.

In theory it had seemed simple enough. Sneak up on the animal and stab them, slice them up a bit and then cook them. Easy, right? But he hadn't taken into account how stealthy the animals were, or the fact that every single one of them here seemed to be blessed with some sort of superhuman hearing which alerted them to his presence each time he got close.

While he knew he should probably just give up and go back, his pride wouldn't let him. The others would surely laugh if he came back from his supposed hunt without anything to show for his efforts. He'd go back to being a joke to them, Clove and Cato and Marvel. He couldn't let that happen.

Peeta stood still for a while, deciding to try a new tactic. He wouldn't rush this. Glancing around, he took note of everything around him; the thick clump of grass to his left, the solid bark of the trees to his right and the sharp dip in the ground at the rabbit hole that lay adjacent to them. Wait, what? He paused, blinked, half expecting it to disappear. It didn't.

Maybe he should have tried actually looking a little sooner.

He crept towards the hole, sword raised, ready to attack. Peering into it cautiously, his eyes were met with a pair of wide brown ones, a twitching nose and a set of quivering whiskers. Peeta wondered when everyone and everything had come to fear him so much. The rabbit blinked at him and he blinked back, each of them waiting for the other to make the first move.

Just as the rabbit darted out, Peeta drove his heavy sword into the ground, spearing it straight through its middle. Skewered on the blade, its little head flopped to one side and its once alert ears drooped down. Peeta half expected to hear the sound of the cannon.

Pulling the lifeless body from his weapon, he cleaned that quickly in the grass. Blood oozed out onto his hand and he tried his best to ignore it, gripping the rabbit by its ears and letting the body dangle down beside him as he headed back to the camp.

* * *

He had accumulated a few more rabbits on his journey back. It was easy now that he knew how to catch them. By the time he reached the clearing, he carried two in each hand. This would be the best meal they'd had since they arrived in the arena. He'd also collected some more leaves to help attend to Cato's stings, a sort of apology for their argument earlier.

The boy from Three was the first to spot him, waving shyly to him from the mouth of the tent. Peeta smiled and waved back, the bodies of the rabbits thumping into each other with the swift back-and-forth motion of his hand. Striding over to the fire where Clove and Cato sat hunched together and conversing in low murmurs, he dropped bodies at their feet.

At this, Cato's head snapped up instantly, his furious gaze locking on Peeta. "Where the hell do you think you've been?" he demanded, rising to his feet and slamming a palm into the other boy's chest, hard. "You leave for hours on end and then just waltz back here with some fucking rabbits and expect everything to be okay?"

Peeta was taken aback because Cato was right. He had assumed that everything would be fine. Hadn't this been the exact same argument they had earlier? Except this time he was on the other side of the fight. He was the one in the wrong, the one who had walked away rather than dealing with the problems between them.

"Don't you think that's a little hypocritical?" Peeta murmured back, watching the other boy closely for his reaction to having his own words thrown back in his face. Cato looked like he'd been punched in the face.

Across from them, Marvel snorted. "You two waste so much time arguing with each other, it's like you forget why we're actually here. Stop getting so sentimental over all this. At this rate, you're both going to die anyway because you'll be too busy crying over each other to notice that someone's about to kill you."

He chuckled at this but none of the others joined in. The sound of his obnoxious laughter echoed around the silent clearing for a moment. Cato just looked at him.

"Was that a fucking threat, Marvel?" He spoke quietly, almost softly. "Do you want to do this right now? Is that what you want? Because I swear, I will end you if you don't learn to show a little respect. I'll break your neck right here."

Looking around for his spear, which lay on the other side of camp, Marvel knew that he wouldn't have time to recover it before Cato killed him. He was by far the weaker of the two, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance without it.

"Calm down, princess, that's not what I meant." He replied quickly, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Cato growled at the nickname, his face turning a burning shade of crimson. Peeta didn't doubt that in that moment, he'd have happily snapped Marvel's neck. He could have easily done it, too.

Clove was still sat by the fire but for once she looked like she didn't know what to say to Cato to calm him down. It was obvious that she didn't like Marvel either – his constant jibes had grown increasingly tiresome since Glimmer had died and there was no one left to pretend that he was funny.

"This is stupid," Peeta declared, pushing his way in between the two boys. "Quit fighting, we're meant to be an alliance. I brought home dinner, let's just eat it and calm down a little."

Marvel seemed to relax at this, nodding his head in agreement. Cato did the opposite, his stature becoming rigid as he glared at Peeta. "I don't want any of your fucking dinner."

"Cato," Clove began cautiously, standing and placing a soothing hand on his arm. "C'mon. Don't be like that. You need to eat."

The boy just shrugged her off then kicked out at the spit that stood over the fire, the wood splintering then snapping entirely beneath this boots. "I said I don't fucking want any. Leave me the fuck alone, Clove."

With that he stormed off towards the tent. The boy from Three scrambled frantically out of his way when he approached, darting out from behind the flap and straight to Clove's right hand side where he felt safest. She smiled at him a little.

"Want to help me cut up the rabbits?" she asked softly, and he nodded, gnawing down on his lip uncertainly. "Okay. Peeta, can you and Marvel make another spit or something? We'll need it to cook these." At this, she gestured to the dead rabbits.

The two exchanged an uneasy look. It was obvious that neither of the boys particularly wanted to work together, but they both nodded in agreement anyway. They knew better by now than to get on the wrong side of Clove.

* * *

That night when the anthem sounded, the skies revealed that no tributes had fallen. This meant that Katniss, Rue, Thresh, Foxface and one other were all still out there, still fighting for their lives. Peeta sighed heavily. Clove sat beside him, legs crossed beneath her as she twisted her long brown hair into a braid. She was just trying to distract herself.

Marvel and the boy from Three had retired early, leaving the other two to guard for at least the first part of the night. Peeta found it almost funny how Marvel hadn't taken watch a single night since they'd been here, a sure sign that no one trusted him not to try and stab them in their sleep. Cato hadn't reemerged from the tent when they called him out for dinner, so now his chunk of the meat sat wrapped in leaves by the fireside, ready for whenever he decided to stop sulking and came out.

"He'll come around, you know," Clove said, her eyes watching the fire dance across the burning branches. Peeta turned to look at her quizzically. "Cato, I mean." She clarified. "He'll come around. He was just worried, and he doesn't know how to deal with that. He's not used to actually caring."

He boy sighed. "I don't think that's it."

"Are you doubting me?" Clove teased, pretending to be indignant, and Peeta laughed a little for the first time in a while, shaking his head. "Look, you can't forget what situation we're in here. He's just scared, for you and for me and for himself and he's scared about what this means for all of us. The reality is that we're not all going to go home. We can't. That's why he's so scared. He doesn't know what to do any more."

"How do you know all this?" the boy asked. "Did he tell you?" Somehow he couldn't imagine Cato opening up and admitting to that, especially not when he knew that sponsors could be watching. Clove shook her head.

"No, but I can make a pretty good guess. I understand him." She shrugged. "He doesn't need to tell me things for me to know them." At this she shot Peeta a small smirk, one that brought a blush to his cheeks. He wondered if she knew what happened the night before. Probably, but he'd rather pretend that she was just bluffing than try to deny it then ending up saying something incriminating.

Silence settled in again, each of them losing themselves in their own thoughts.

"The kid from Three finished the mines today." Clove told him after a while. "He did it while you were out. I was expecting them not to work, but he set up a test one and it exploded perfectly, a real blast. I can't believe how clever he is for a little boy so young."

"We're all young." Peeta replied sadly. "I guess this means we don't have any use for him anymore, right?"

The girl beside him nodded back. That meant they'd be killing him sometime soon. Peeta didn't really know what to say. It was obvious that she liked the kid. In another time, another place, she'd do anything to protect him. But she couldn't, and there's no consolation for that.

"Are you scared?" Peeta whispered, reaching out and lacing their fingers together carefully, giving them a slight squeeze. Clove stared back at him, a small smile on her face as she returned the gesture.

"Of course I am."

* * *

Hours passed, the moon tracing a silvery path across the clear sky as it climbed its way higher into the night. The two sat together quietly, close to the fire and close to each other so that Peeta wouldn't feel the chill. They'd stopped trying to talk to each other a little while ago, finding it easier to just co-exist side by side than to force a conversation.

"I think it's time you traded shifts," Clove spoke softy. "I'm going to go and wake Marvel and ask him to help me keep watch tonight." He was about to protest that he was fine, he could do this, but she cut him off. "Peeta, I think you should talk to Cato."

He bit his lip then nodded, thinking about the fresh leaves he'd collected for the boy. As far as he could tell, Cato hadn't treated his stings all day. He was probably in quite a lot of pain right now. As Clove disappeared into the tent, Peeta went and picked up Cato's meal from earlier, figuring that he was probably hungry as well as aching. Somehow he couldn't help but blame himself for this. After all, he was the one supposed to be taking care of him.

A minute later, Marvel and Clove reappeared. The boy looked resentful at having to miss a night's sleep, glaring at Peeta as the other boy slipped into the tent in his place. Inside, Cato was awake. He lay on his back staring up at the roof of the tent, breathing shallow. As if he could sense that it was Peeta that had just entered, he made a point not to look around.

The boy from Three was asleep on completely the opposite side of the tent, clearly as far away from Cato as he could possibly get in the small amount of space available. This left a wide gap between their bodies, one that allowed Peeta to lower himself down at Cato's side.

"Hey Cato," he muttered, not really expecting a response. "Look, I know you're annoyed with me, but for what it's worth I want to tell you I'm sorry." The other boy continued to stare up at the ceiling. Cautiously, Peeta let his hand drop to Cato's arm, a part where one of the stings had lodged itself inside and grown swollen. His fingers stroked over the angry red skin lightly. Cato jerked away.

"Don't be like that," the other boy pleaded. "C'mon, they must be hurting like hell. At least let me change your leaves. I know it won't mean that you forgive me or anything but please, just let me do this for you." There was a pause. "Please?"

Cato sighed, biting his lip then nodding. It was only because he was in pain that he agreed. He sat up, shifting around so that his back was to the younger boy, even though they both knew that the stings littered the front of his torso as well as the back.

Peeta carefully placed his hands at the bottom of the boy's shirt, fingering the hemline. "Do you mind if I, uh…" he tugged gently at the cotton in an upwards motion, indicating that he needed to take it off to treat the skin effectively. Almost imperceptibly Cato shook his head, even lifting his arms to allow the other to tug the material over his head.

The skin beneath it was splattered with ugly purplish-red blotches and the crumbled remains of yesterday's leaves. Peeta carefully peeled them back, replacing them with fresh ones as quickly as he could, trying hard not to touch Cato unnecessarily as he did so. As soon as he was finished, he handed the other boy back his shirt, watching as he pulled it back on and lay down exactly as he was before Peeta had interrupted him, fixing his gaze back to the crumpled material of the tent as if it were a work of art.

"I understand that you're angry at me, but please don't stay mad for too long." Peeta begged him softly. "I'd miss you." He leant down, gently pressing his lips to Cato's forehead. When he drew back, he noticed that the other boy's cheeks had turned a faint pink colour and he was back to avoiding eye contact. He didn't punch Peeta, though. That was a start.

Clearing his throat, the boy backed away again, putting a decent amount of space between them again. "I, uh… I brought you some food. In case you're hungry. I'll just leave that here."

With that, he backed out of the tent, fighting down the wave of disappointment he felt when Cato didn't try to stop him from going. Back out in the chilly air of the night, he decided that he'd keep Marvel company on his watch and let Clove get some sleep. Get out of the tent for a while, try to steady his reeling mind.

It's not like he'd be able to fall asleep anyway, even if he tried. Not after that.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey guys! Just to say a huge thank you to everyone reviewing! This is probably going to be the last update for a while (until the weekend, at least) as we are both really busy with exams. We'd really, really love to know what you think of this one, so please do let us know!


	9. Chapter 9

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 9**

* * *

Peeta was bored out of his skull, and, so it seemed, were Clove, Cato and Marvel too. While they were all well aware that sitting around doing nothing does not make for very good television, none of the four remaining Careers could think of anything to do that was actually worth doing. Who'd have ever thought a battle for your life could ever be so… uneventful. Calm almost, and possibly even a little anticlimactic.

Clove was simply staring at the sky, the freckles that scattered their way across the bridge of her nose becoming increasingly prominent the longer she was out in the sun. Beside her Cato was sharpening his sword, and it appeared Marvel was sunbathing in the middle. Either that or he was sleeping, stretched out lazily on his back.

Peeta couldn't help but speculate how easy it would be to drive a sword through the other boy's stomach right now while he lay there, relaxed and vulnerable, his spear nowhere in sight. He would have done it, too, if not for the fact that they had an alliance and, more often than not, sponsors didn't like Tributes who betrayed their allies.

It wasn't worth losing Sponsors just because he was bored.

As for the District Three boy, well. They wouldn't know. As soon as he'd finished the mines he had mostly stayed silent and hidden away, but always close to hand when they needed his help. Peeta assumed this was a sign of his cleverness – the boy must know that the Careers no longer had any use for him, that now they'd just be looking for an excuse to kill him, so he stayed out of their way. Maybe he was hoping that they'd forget all about him entirely.

Peeta wondered if the boy would even have it in him to try and fight them when the time came, or whether he'd attempt to run away before it did. Probably not. It was like he had already accepted that this was his fate, didn't even consider opposing it. Perhaps he knew there was no point trying to fight the inevitable. He couldn't win this.

Suddenly the silence was broken by Clove's excited gasp.

"Look over there!" She shot up on her feet and pointed towards a plume of dark grey smoke emerging from the trees. "It's like they knew how bored we were!"

At this, she giggled and clapped her hands together. Cato grinned animalistically, Marvel whooped and even Peeta felt some sort of excitement stirring in the depths of his stomach. At least he wasn't just going to sit around ignoring Cato for another hour.

"Three, w-" Cato began to call the boy, but he was there before he could finish. He didn't meet the older boy's eyes, being the most intimidated by Cato, just nodded to the ground and pulled out a spear to rest on his lap, and then began to survey the trees expectantly. At least he was eager to impress.

Clove looked at him with a sort of fondness that you would with a pet before shaking her head and waving goodbye to him, which the little boy returned with a wide, shy smile. Then the four of them took off in the direction of the smoke, none of them able to keep the smiles off their faces. Even Marvel looked happy, for once. They had a purpose.

* * *

Arriving at the clearing where the fire was burning merrily, they made an effort to be quiet as they approached. Hiding in the trees for a few moments, they started to grow confused. Where was the tribute? Peeta peered around the area. There was no sign of anyone. After a few moments of waiting, Marvel huffed and strode into the clearing cockily, spear poised to attack, laughing. No one bothered to warn him that it could be a trap. They wanted to see for themselves if it was. However, no one showed.

"Maybe they just forgot to put the fire out?" Clove suggested in a low voice, hope creeping into her voice as they all continued to peer around. At this stage in the contest, it seemed unlikely. In an environment like this, you quickly learned that even the smallest mistake could get you killed. You don't make mistakes here.

Then again, there were still some stupid kids out there. Foxface was still alive, after all. Sure, the ones that didn't know basic rules of survival had mostly been wiped out, but there were bound to be others that did know them and just forgot them. The Games put you under so much pressure that you just forget simple common sense.

Peeta nodded. "Yeah, that must be it!"

They had just turned to head back to their camp when they spotted another plume of smoke curling its way up from the trees. Instantly the group gained back the same excitement as they had earlier, the familiar thrill of a hunt coursing through them. How stupid did one person have to be? They were just asking for it, really.

For once, Peeta couldn't even find it in himself to feel guilty.

* * *

By the third fire, the enthusiasm had started to die, but when it got to the fourth fire with no tributes lying in wait, they were all tired, angry and irritated, only just realising that they had been led on a wild goose chase.

Cato genuinely wanted to kill someone. It's not that this was anything particularly rare for him or anything, but it was just more of a burning desire than usual. He'd had Peeta ignoring him since the night before (not that he wasn't doing the same to the other boy) instead of just talking to him, and that stupid ass Marvel trying to talk down to him all day. Now some stupid little punk was playing some sort of game with him? He wanted to kill somebody.

He clutched his sword so tightly it hurt, knuckles whitening from the tight hold on the handle. The pain of this made him uptight, on edge, but it served to remind him of exactly where he was and exactly who was watching his every move. Somehow it helped him to contain his emotions and keep some of the anger inside, forced him to calm down before he lashed out and did something he'd regret. He still had some control, at least.

Then a chorus of deafening "BOOM"s filled the air. This time, it was not the familiar sound of the cannon – it was much louder, much more real and tangible. Closer.

"What the fuck was that?" Marvel covered his ears and grimaced, looking about him at where the sound came from. The direction of their camp. Peeta felt uneasy. Without further ado, he led the sprint back, tracing the familiar path back through the trees as quickly as he could.

Of course, everything was destroyed. The food had been blown sky high, the spare supplies blown to smithereens, broken into rubble that lay littered across the ground. Even the tent was damaged beyond repair, a huge gaping hole blown into its side, the once-green material now singed a rancid black. Some of the few precious weapons they had been saving were gone and all five of the sleeping bags lay in pieces on the floor.

The mines had exploded.

At the heart of the scene, in the middle of the destruction, the boy from District Three stood quivering. It was obvious he was crying. His fear made him look even smaller.

As soon as they got near enough to hear him, he began trying to explain himself.

"I heard something over there-" He pointed, his finger shaking. "And I went - I went to go and look then everything went everywhere and it was so loud and I can't hear - I can't-"

Cato didn't have any time for sympathy as he charged over to the terrified boy who was shaking like a leaf, floods of tears streaming down his face. His face was contorted into an expression pure rage, understandably so. Even Clove didn't try and stop him. As Cato grabbed his face roughly between his hands, the boy squeaked. He must've known this was it. The end.

"Pleas-"

He didn't manage to get his last shaky word out before Cato was twisting his head harshly, easily breaking his neck. The boy's limp body dropped to the ground with a dull thud and a cannon sounded. Dead.

Not even sparing a backwards glace towards the boy he had just murdered, Cato stormed over to the wreckage, throwing things around, an exercise in futility. No one tried to stop him. What could they do? In all honesty, they all felt slightly scared of the blond boy once more, Peeta especially. He could fly off the handle so easily, so quickly. There was no telling who or what he'd take his rage out on. One thing was for certain, though. Something would suffer.

With a sigh, he looked over to watch Cato pound his fist into a tree. Good. At least he was taking his rage out that way, on something that couldn't fight back. He bit his lip. Uncertain of what to do, Peeta glanced over at Clove for guidance, but she was staring at her District partner with the same bemusement and unease that he felt.

Marvel, however, didn't look at all bothered as he smirked over at Peeta and Clove. "Leave him to have his little temper tantrum." He scoffed. Peeta didn't quite hear what he said next because he'd lowered his voice so drastically, but he was sure he that he heard Marvel mutter to himself "What a baby."

Since when was he so cocky? A week ago, the boy would have never dared to breathe a word of insult against the great Lord Cato.

Peeta was about to say something to this effect, angrily walking closer to the boy, but Clove beat him to it. "I'd suggest you keep your stupid thoughts to yourself if you want to stay in the alliance much longer." She whispered threateningly into his ear. "I do hope that Cato didn't hear what you just said, because now that he's in one of those 'temper tantrums', I'm sure he'd have no qualms about sticking his sword through your stomach."

She smiled nastily at him and Peeta laughed with her. The other boy just stuck his nose up in the air, pretending not to be intimidated, but didn't say another bad word against the leader of their group. Distancing themselves from him, the other two walked out of Marvel's earshot to quietly discuss what to do next out.

"I think we need to deflect his anger somehow." Clove bit her lip. Her eyes were a little red and she seemed a little less composed for usual. Noticing this, Peeta was reminded at how much she had cared for the younger boy from Three. Even if she'd never openly admitted it, it had been obvious enough.

He didn't say anything to comfort her though, just pretended not to notice. There was nothing he could say. They'd all known it was only a matter of time, right from the start. Maybe it was best that he had died so quickly. At least it had been quick and painless.

In an attempt to distract himself from his morbid thoughts, he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. "Maybe we need to find another tribute?" he suggested after a moment's thought. The two exchanged a glance, and looked back to where Cato was throwing the broken bits of their supplies everywhere again, his manic growls and shouts echoing in the air. He looked absolutely insane.

"Maybe you're right," Clove agreed, and Peeta nodded, answering his own question.

"I'll go and hunt one down. You stay here and make sure he doesn't kill Marvel." He pulled a face. "Or whatever."

It took a lot of effort to bite back the comment about how it wouldn't be much of a loss from the tip of his tongue. If he said it out loud, it might be too tempting to just tell Cato to kill the other boy.

Clove shook her head violently. "You can't go hunting on your own, you'll get killed! And apart from that, there's no fucking way you're doing that now, not when he's in this mood. You know he'd rip me to shreds for letting you go!"

"Trust me, I'll be fine." He assured her. She looked indignant, like she was about to interrupt, so he hastened to add an explanation. "Look, one of us needs to find a Tribute and I'd rather it was me than you. Cato's not even talking to me at the moment, so there's absolutely no point in me staying with him."

Clove rolled her eyes. Neither boy had bothered to explain to her what had happened between them, but they were both so painfully obvious that she hadn't even felt the need to ask. "At least take Marvel with you."

"I'm not taking Marvel," he replied bluntly, not even bothering to hide his disgust. "I can't leave you here alone with Cato when he's in this mood."

"Looks like there's only one solution then." Clove grinned. "I'm coming with you."

"You think he'll be okay here with Marvel?" He had to ask, although if he were perfectly honest, it would probably be the best if Cato were just to kill him now. One less thing to worry about.

Clove raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say Marvel wouldn't be the biggest loss." They smiled at each other and had to suppress a laugh. "Come on, let's get a move on."

They quickly told Marvel where they were going, who just nodded, seemingly uninterested. He was too busy picking his nails with that damned spear. Peeta shivered in disgust, making his way into the trees with Clove as quietly as possible. Not quietly enough, though, as they barely made it three paces into the woods before Cato stopped them.

"Where the hell are you two going?" Came his angry shout, along with a toss of debris in their direction. It probably shouldn't have been funny, Peeta thought, but he was having a hard time keeping the smile off his face. He bit his lip to suppress his giggle as Clove quickly explained their plan (omitting the detail about the whole thing being a plot to make him calm the hell down), cringing slightly at being caught.

Cato didn't even reply when she finished, he just picked up his sword and stormed out ahead of them. It was clear he'd be accompanying them, then. Seeing this, Marvel actually volunteered to keep watch for once with a wide smirk on his face. Somehow he always managed to get out of actually doing anything useful.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be watching." He laughed loudly in his self-satisfied way. "The grass? The lake?" He gestured about the ruins of their former camp. "It's not like there's anything left here to lose. Have fun on your hunt, Lover Boy."

Peeta frowned deeply at the return of his old nickname and Marvel smirked, his eyes glinting maliciously as he sent the other boy a wink. Just as Peeta opened his mouth to snap back some sort of retort, Clove called him, urging him to hurry the hell up.

Turning, he just about caught sight of her chasing frantically after Cato. With a last apprehensive glare in Marvel's direction, he hurried after the two of them quickly, reminding himself that he could only solve one problem at a time. The annoying boy before him could wait until later. Right now, calming Cato down had to be priority.

* * *

He'd had to run to catch them up, following the trail of destruction Cato seemed to leave in his wake as he tore through the trees. After around ten minutes of aimlessly (and loudly) scouring the thick branches and green leaves for a Tribute, the party decided to split up.

"We can cover all bases, then." Clove suggested reasonably. "As long as we don't go too far, it should be okay. Just shout if you need help." She directed this to Peeta in particular, knowing that Cato was probably not listening. He was too busy huffing and panting in frustration. It was kind of really weird.

With that they parted ways, Clove going one way and Peeta going the other.

As for Cato… Peeta wasn't even sure what the other boy was doing. Angsting, apparently. He'd just continued barreling on through the trees as if the other two didn't exist when they told him they were going to split.

Sighing, Peeta tried to focus on the hunt rather than worrying about the other boy. Sometimes he forgot that Cato was big and strong, and that he could look after himself. It was easy to do so when he acted like such a kid the whole time.

Just as Peeta got into the zone, creeping silently around twigs and branches, on careful lookout for movement, he heard the shrill scream of a girl. Clove.

"Cato!" She shouted. "Peeta!"

Panicking, he ran clumsily towards the direction of the shriek, nearly tripping over a large branch in his wake, stumbling but just about managing to keep his footing. He had to get to her on time. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't. When he heard the familiar 'BOOM' of the cannon, he just sped up, adrenaline driving him faster than ever before. He felt sick, bile rising in his throat. He ran through it.

It couldn't be Clove, he refused to believe it. She was too strong to die.

He shouted her name as he ran, growing frantic. "Peeta!" he heard her call back just moments later, her voice still desperate. Relief coursed through him instantly. She wasn't dead. He knew she wouldn't be. That meant that someone else was, though. Refusing to let himself even think that the cannon might have been for Cato, he ran on. Hopefully Marvel had tripped and impaled himself on his spear or something. That would be a real stroke of luck.

When he found Clove, she was laying in a ditch surrounded by leaves, face contorted with pain. There was a massive spike of tree bark sticking out of her leg, clearly some sort of snare – set up compliments of Katniss, no doubt. Peeta felt the familiar stab of frustration when it came to the other girl. If she'd just died, goddamn it, this competition would be a whole hell of a lot easier.

He knelt down by Clove who attempted to smile at him gratefully. It came out as more of a grimace. "This is a fucking joke." She grit her teeth, refusing to cry. Not in front of the Sponsors. "What even is this?"

He rolled his eyes, reaching out to hold one of her shaking hands. They always pretended to be so strong, her and Cato. She squeezed his fingers tightly. "It's going to hurt a lot when I take this out." He warned her. "But it has to be done so we can clean it." She tightened her grip, nodding.

Just then Cato rushed around the corner, grin firmly in place. He was carrying a bundle of cloth and Peeta could see a rope poking out. He must've killed the tribute from Seven and taken their supplies. He felt a vague stab of relief that the cannon was for someone he didn't have an emotional attachment to.

When the older boy caught sight of Clove's predicament he froze in place, his grin twisted into an expression of shock, dropping the bundle on the floor and rushing to kneel at the side of her. "Is - is she gonna be okay?" He asked Peeta bluntly, his wide eyes locked on the gaping wound in his friend's leg.

"Yeah." He answered quietly. "We'll need to take her back to camp and clean her up, but first, I need to take this out." He chewed his lip nervously. "Hold her other hand."

Clove was frustrated, her face tight with the effort of holding herself together. She seemed to be in too much in pain to say anything, as if she didn't want to open her mouth in fear of showing how much she was hurting. She grabbed Cato's hand without deliberation, knowing she would probably need it no matter how strong she was when it came to pain.

Peeta took the fast approach. When she signalled that she was ready with a slight nod, he took a firm grip on the spike and yanked it out in its entirety. She hissed in pain but kept her eyes tightly closed so as not to appear weak. Good. They needed all the sponsors they could get, what with all their supplies gone.

He felt overwhelmingly proud of her as he laid the bloody bark aside, smiling slightly. "We're gonna have to take you to camp. Lean on us if you need to." He helped her up and he and Cato shared a look of silent understanding before grabbing one of her arms each, looping them around their necks and helping her limp back.

* * *

They were worried about Clove. She wasn't complaining, but her wound was steadily bleeding out, the pristine white bandage they had secured on it getting redder with every passing minute. Of course, the Gamemakers had decided this would be the perfect opportunity for them to test out the borderline-freezing weather conditions. The girl was extraordinarily cold, but Cato had managed to salvage a sleeping bag from the dead tribute earlier, so at least that was helping.

That wasn't all. Although Peeta had cleaned it as soon as they got back to camp, the wound had somehow become infected, clearly shown by the swelling and the putrid yellow pus that would occasionally leak out. Peeta wasn't a healer by any means so he had no clue what that would signify. He'd have a good guess that it wasn't a good sign, though.

By sunset, when he went to change her bandages again he noticed the dark red bruising leading up from her wound along her leg. Even he knew what that signified. Blood poisoning.

She'd be dead within a matter of days. He didn't know whether Clove would recognise it herself, so chose not to say anything. He didn't want to worry her.

"You're not being very talkative." He smiled at her as he secured the bandage, attempting to engage her in normal conversation. "How are you feeling?"

She looked at him incredulously, remaining silent. Okay, so maybe it was a bit of a stupid question. Her leg had been impaled on a piece of wood, it's hardly like she was going to be feeling wonderful. "I just mean... are you hurting? Is there anything I can do?"

He looked so genuinely concerned as he scrutinized her face, so damn worried that she couldn't help but soften. "The pain… it's not too bad." She near whispered, but her tight face told a different story. "Peeta… I-" She looked terrified for a fraction of a second, reminding Peeta quite how young she was. "Is it really bad?"

Peeta looked into her eyes, blown wide with fear but her expression still blank to try and convince the world - and herself - that she was calm, and he didn't have the heart to tell her the depth of her injury. "It's not bad." He smiled encouragingly. "You'll be fixed up in no time. Just go to sleep and rest that leg."

Ruffling her hair affectionately, he climbed to his feet and away from her. Slowly approaching Cato, he decided he had to tell the other boy about Clove's predicament, no matter how much he wanted to avoid him. It couldn't stay awkward between them forever, what kind of alliance would that be?

When he approached, the boy was standing with his arms folded, teeth worrying down on his lip, an anxious habit he'd picked up from Peeta somewhere along the course of the past few days. Peeta was extremely aware of the fact that they hadn't really spoken since the night before in the tent, when he'd kissed the other boy again. Even then, that had pretty much been a one-sided conversation. It felt like a million years ago now.

"Cato," he whispered urgently, not wanting Clove to hear. The boy turned to him, arching an eyebrow back at him in question. Peeta frowned, wishing he'd just say something. "She's... uh. I think, well, actually I'm pretty sure... Cato, I think she's got blood poisoning." He was stuttering over his words, something he hadn't done that since he was a little kid.

Damn it, why was he so nervous?

For a fraction of a second, Cato's expression was one of fear before he schooled it quickly into a blank, calm mask. Pretending not to care. "And?"

"She's probably got around a day. Maybe two. I don't know." He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "There's nothing we can do – we haven't got the materials, no supplies. We don't even have anti-septic."

"But we have spons-" Cato began to argue, before Peeta cut him off with a disbelieving look.

No matter how many sponsors they have, the medicine they needed would be astronomical in price, and that would have been the case from the very first day. What made it worse was that the further into the Games time progressed, the higher the costs of gifts. It would take all of their sponsors pooled together to scrape the money together for just a tiny amount of the medicine. Besides, they'd already got the parachute full of bandages earlier. There's a limit to people's generosity.

"You know how expensive things are in the Games, right?"

Cato nodded, sighed and rubbed his temple in frustration, subconsciously mimicking Peeta's body language. The other closed his eyes for a moment, looking away, trying to figure out what they could possibly do to save the dying girl.

"Maybe it's for the best," Cato began, his face scrunching up as he spoke, like the words physically pained him to say. "This way, none of us have to kill each other, she'd just…"

"Don't," Peeta cut him off. "Don't try and make that the bright side, here. That's just giving up too easily. We're going to save her, you hear me? She's not going to die."

Cato was about to speak, his mouth opened slightly, but this time it was the sound of the Capitol anthem blaring across the arena that interrupted him. The two exchanged a look of confusion. It wasn't the right time to broadcast the deaths of the Fallen yet – it was around two hours too early, and the Capitol seal didn't appear in the sky.

"Good evening tributes!" crooned a voice from the skies, and Peeta instantly recognized it to belong to Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane. His voice was distinctive, cheerful but not imbued with the same affected accent as so many Capitol citizens had acquired.

Peeta knew from watching other years that it was not unusual for the Gamemakers to interact with the Tributes during The Games. If there weren't enough fighting, a lull in activity, they would intervene and try to stir things up in the arena a little, trying to set their remaining contestants up for confrontation.

"We understand that many of you are in dire need of some help – help that might seem...out of reach." This year was no exception, it seemed, and Peeta nodded uncertainly to the sky, though he was not sure why. He had an inkling of where Crane was going with this, and it gave him an edge of hope that he forced himself to swallow.

"We've made the generous decision to provide you with that much-needed help." Here, the man paused for dramatic effect, and Peeta imagined the wide smile that he would be sporting. Briefly he wondered when he had begun to respect and even like the man who was controlling his fate, and ultimately, his death. It was probably back when he gave him that eleven, and in doing so evened out Peeta's odds. He wouldn't be with the Careers without it.

"Tomorrow, at sunrise, there will be a feast at the Cornucopia. At the feast will be a package labeled with the number of the District you... or, in some cases, the person that you are helping resides in. Good luck tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Peeta slowly felt his lips curl upwards until they had grown into a smile that stretched from ear to ear. Cato's expression mirrored his own and they began to laugh loudly, relief flooding their being. Maybe the laughter had an edge of hysteria, but that didn't matter right now. They could easily get the medicine for Clove. Of course they could. Between them, they were the strongest tributes in the arena.

They wouldn't – couldn't – stop laughing until their stomachs were hurting, Peeta keeled over clutching at his sides, gasping for breath. Cato whooped loudly and almost galloped over to Clove, which just made Peeta laugh harder. Even the girl joined in slightly, until it began to hurt a little, at which point she resigned herself to just smiling widely and shaking her head at the two boys and their antics.

Right now, none of the problems between him and Cato were relevant. They didn't matter. Why would they? All that mattered was that they could save Clove. They could save her.

Unsurprisingly, Marvel didn't join in on the celebrations, his permanently snooty expression simply contorting into one of irritation at the sight of the others. Maybe this was why Cato assigned him to be the one who stayed back and looked after Clove the next day, knowing that he would hate not being able to get in on the action that was sure to be happening at the feast. Although he didn't exactly protest this, he did give Cato a look of death that was meant to be threatening but, of course, he would never have the guts to act upon it.

* * *

Hope can only keep you cheerful for so long when you could die at any second and within the hour, everyone had calmed down some. Exhausted, Clove had retired just ten minutes after the announcement, only warning them to "Be careful," and "Look out for each other or I'll kill you."

Even though they were sure to be able to help her, it sounded strangely like a goodbye. Peeta watched as she turned away, her back to the fire, and fell asleep.

Without Clove awake to take care of and worry about, the Careers found they had little to say to say to each other. Cato and Peeta were now both back to pretending that the other didn't exist, but every now and again one of them would secretly steal a glance at the other, as if to check they were still there, still close. A little way away Marvel was just sat there on the floor, fiddling with his spear again.

After a while he crawled away from them further still, huffing loudly with each move he made. He seemed unsure of what to do with himself without their tent. He hadn't trained for this. Back at the academy in his District, survival skills took a back seat to weaponry. You're meant to fight your way to the supplies and then keep them, not get them blown up.

Sighing pointedly back at the two boys, he lay down with his arms folded petulantly across his chest. He was irritated, uncomfortable and took absolutely no responsibility for what had happened to their supplies, just angled his body as far away from the other three as he possibly could, trying to silently convey his irritation.

Once again there was no offer from him to keep watch. Of course there wasn't.

Peeta wondered whether he should offer, but he assumed by Cato's rigid body sat next to the fire that the boy wanted to do it alone. That was probably for the best. Now was no time for the two of them to be fighting. Besides, he'd had hardly any sleep the past few days, and he'd need to rest up if he wanted to be at his strongest the next day at the feast.

In spite of this, he still found himself hesitating for a few seconds before sighing, turning to head over to sleep beside Clove.

"Peeta," At the soft utter of his name, he spun around in shock. He hadn't expected the other boy to address him unless it was absolutely necessary. "Here..." Cato reached down to grab a bundle of material that sat at his feet, casually tossing it towards the other boy. It was a jacket. Peeta's jaw dropped open, and Cato shrugged back at him before explaining further. "I picked it up from the kid from seven earlier, and I remembered that you didn't have one."

So he was still looking out for him, even if they weren't strictly on speaking terms. If that wasn't enough to make him happy, the promise of the extra warmth throughout the night was. Peeta smiled. "Thanks, Cato."

Cato nodded almost imperceptibly, a half smile threatening to appear on his face, which is why he ducked his head away to stare into the woods. "Whatever, it was nothing. Go and get some rest, I'll wake you up in a few hours."

Tugging on the jacket, Peeta nodded and made his way over to Clove, tucking himself in at her side. She shifted in her sleep, groaning in pain as she instinctively moved closer to him. With the extra warmth of her body beside him and the jacket to hold off the chill, he fell asleep nearly as soon as his head hit the floor.

From the other side of the fire, Cato was too preoccupied with watching the two of them sleep to notice Foxface slip past him, nimbly skipping through their camp and into the Cornucopia in preparation for the feast the next morning. One thing was for sure - it was going to be one hell of an eventful day. It had to be. Only seven Tributes remained.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello again everyone! We got to over 50 reviews! That's awesome, thank all you guys so much! We love getting your feedback, it literally makes our days a hundred times brighter, so please keep reviewing and we'll keep trying to update as often as we can. Even if you only have one word to say, we'd appreciate you saying it. Thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 10**

* * *

The sun slowly clawed its way towards the horizon line and the black of the night faded to grey, the moon still hanging eerily among the clouds as if it had forgotten to fall down. Peeta woke up feeling warm, rested and comfortable, rubbing his bleary eyes awake then blinking back against the soft light of the morning. Turning to look around him, he was surprised how soft the tree root he had slept on felt against his head.

Clove was still beside him, her face pale and sunken, dark shadows encircling her eyes. She shuddered in her sleep every now and again, a light sheen of sweat building on her forehead. He stared at her blankly for a moment, then realised with a jolt that he was meant to be helping her. He was meant to be awake and helping her.

Sitting up slowly so as not to wake her, he glanced around for Cato. The other boy sat close by the fire in just a t-shirt, staring pensively into the burning embers in front of him. It looked like he hadn't moved a muscle since the other two had fallen asleep the night before.

Straightening out his stiff limbs, Peeta climbed to his feet. His muscles were still too relaxed and heavy to carry his weight properly, making him stumble clumsily as he approached the other boy. Cato looked up, smiling a little when he caught sight of him, which was definitely an encouraging sign.

"Hey," Peeta whispered, sitting down beside him. "I'm sorry I overslept. Why didn't you wake me up? We were meant to trade shifts after a couple of hours."

"You looked tired," Cato shrugged easily. "I figured I'd just take the other shift, too. I don't think I could've slept anyway. I guess you can owe me for it later."

"Yeah, okay. Sure thing. I'll take watch tonight," Peeta agreed. He couldn't help but think that it was weird how their relationship swung from one extreme to the other. It could be explosive, angry, out of control one day and the next it could be quiet and calm, as natural as breathing.

Watching the other boy, he wondered if he felt equally lost when it came to understanding their uneasy alliance. Probably. Cato was really bad with emotional stuff, found it difficult to process anything more complex than anger or excitement, adrenaline. It's not that he couldn't, it's just that more often than not he didn't want to. Peeta could understand that.

"Hey, why aren't you wearing your jacket?" he blurted suddenly, noticing the boy's bare arms and close proximity to the flames. "It's cold, aren't you freezing out here in just your shirt?"

Cato blushed at this, looking away and mumbling something quietly under his breath about being fine and not needing a stupid jacket anyway. Peeta looked around, utterly bemused until he spotted the bundle of material bunched up on the floor next to Clove's head in the spot he had recently vacated.

Thinking back, he remembered being surprised at how soft the ground felt when he first woke up. Cato must have rolled his jacket up and tucked it under his head at some point during the night, letting the boy use it as a makeshift pillow. Something warm spread its way to Peeta's stomach as he realised this, and he couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face.

"Thank you," he said. "You didn't have to do that." Retrieving the jacket quickly, he handed it back to an extremely embarrassed Cato, who tugged it straight back on.

"Shut up, I was just… uh. I just put it there because I didn't want to wear it any more." Peeta rolled his eyes at the blatant lie, but nodded anyway, knowing there was no point in trying to argue with him. Cato seemed pleased with this response, the blush fading from his cheeks as he let himself look at the other boy once again. "We'll need to be leaving here fairly soon if we want to get to the feast early enough to get our stuff and get the hell out of there. If we don't, someone might take our pack or something, and then we'd be screwed."

It was weird hearing the other boy make the plans for the day. Usually it was Clove who ordering everyone around, constantly keeping them organized and on schedule. In that sense, at times she reminded him of Effie, always punctual. Maybe that's why Peeta liked her so much.

"Okay, that sounds good. I'll go and find us something to eat for breakfast." Cato looked like he was about to protest, but Peeta cut him off before he could. "Relax, I'll only take a minute. I won't go far, I promise. Just build up the fire and wake up Marvel while I'm gone. That way, we can leave as soon as we finish eating."

After a moment Cato nodded his agreement, albeit grudgingly, and Peeta smiled. "I'll see you soon," he said, reaching for his sword and heading out into the trees.

"Whatever," Cato replied, feigning indifference. His eyes told a different story, though, not leaving the other boy's back until he'd completely disappeared from sight.

* * *

When Peeta returned, two freshly caught rabbits in hand, he wasn't entirely unsurprised to be greeted by the sight of a scowling Marvel. The boy seemed to permanently exist in some kind of dissatisfied state as of late, strutting around wearing that disgusted expression as if someone had forced his precious spear up his butthole.

A little way away, Cato was adding more branches and leaves to their fire. He smiled over at Peeta when their eyes met, sparing him a little wave. Marvel scoffed.

Deciding to make himself useful, Peeta pulled the smaller knife he carried out from his pocket and sat down on the floor, attempting to skin the rabbit in the same way he'd seen Clove do it the day before. Easier said than done. It was messy, blood splattering everywhere and guts spilling out onto the floor as he carved his way into the rabbit, searching desperately for the fleshy chunks of meat that the girl had found and cooked for them.

Ahead of him, he heard someone chuckle softly and he looked up to meet Cato's amused eyes once again. He was closer than Peeta thought, basically hovering over him, eyebrow quirked at the sight of the boy's apparent lack of skills in this department. He huffed indignantly. At least he was trying here.

Suddenly Cato was sitting down opposite him, his long legs crossing beneath him into a position that made him look strangely childish. "Here, let me show you," he said softly, reaching for the other rabbit and pulling out a knife of his own. He cut a careful slice into the side of the body, his technique the same as the one Clove had used the day before, and with just a few more careful flicks of the blade, a thick hunk of the tender flesh was exposed.

Struggling, Peeta's already poor attempts simply became clumsier still as he attempted to keep up with the other boy. Noticing this, Cato began to laugh. "On second thoughts, you'd probably better just let me do it." Peeta playfully scowled at him, handing over what was left of the butchered rabbit.

"Aren't you meant to be good at stuff like this?" Cato asked as he worked on the other rabbit, sounding genuinely curious. "I thought you do it with your father back in your District?"

"No, my dad's a baker, not a butcher." The reply was simple enough, but somehow the other boy only looked more confused by it, like he didn't understand the difference. "Bakers don't cut up animals, they just… Well, they bake things, I guess, like bread or cakes and buns, even pies and tarts sometimes, when they have the money."

"Oh, right, I think I get it." He pulled a face. "So you just bake cakes? Wow. That's not even half as manly as I imagined it to be when you said you were a baker." Peeta laughed at this, grinning over at the other boy affectionately.

"Okay, I'm done with these," Cato declared suddenly, breaking the moment as he tossed the broken remains of the animals to one side and skewering the raw chunks of meat on a sharp piece of wood from their spit. He propped it up over the fire, leaving it to cook there while he finished getting himself prepared for the feast that would begin in a matter of hours.

The sun was peeking out through the trees now, streaking vivid oranges, yellows and pinks across the otherwise crystal blue sky. It was so beautiful it seemed completely out of place here in an arena for a game that was so barbaric. Quickly arming himself with the best of the weapons that remained after the blast, Peeta sighed.

When the hell had all his thoughts gotten so morbid and depressing?

* * *

"We'll be back in a couple of hours," Cato told Marvel for the fiftieth time. "Don't even think about going anywhere. You stay right here and you guard Clove, you hear me? If anything happens to her, I will hunt you down and make you pay. I'll fucking kill you."

"I know," the boy rolled his eyes. "We've been over this a million times before. I've got it, okay? Stay here, look after Clove, and don't do anything else. It's not exactly challenging. If you're going, then for god's sake just go already!"

Cato looked like he wanted to protest, to stay and lecture the other boy a little more, but Peeta intervened before he could. "C'mon," he said, tugging on his sleeve. "We've got to go now or we'll be too late. The feast starts in a couple of hours."

"Fine." He sighed, knowing that Peeta was right. They had to leave now or they wouldn't be able to help Clove. "Let's go. You make sure you fucking watch yourself, Marble."

With that, sword in hand, he turned and flounced away into the trees, heading towards the Cornucopia once more. Peeta hurried after him, trying hard not to laugh.

* * *

Crouching in a bush, concealed by the thick green leaves, the two boys sat eagerly in wait. Every so often they would shift, move their legs, making sure their muscles didn't stiffen out too much to prevent them from running fast. They about a hundred meters or so away from the Cornucopia, not too far, but not close enough to ensure that they'd be the first ones there, either. Not with Thresh as an opponent.

It was strange to think that everyone (or, at least, the majority of the Tributes remaining) were gathered here, watching, waiting, praying that this wouldn't be the place where they died but knowing they needed the gifts from the Capitol to survive. It felt almost like the first day again, poised on the podium, getting ready to run like hell as soon as it was safe to do so.

The clearing was small and every sound from the rustle of a leaf to a twig snapping underfoot could be heard. It was vital to stay as quiet as possible. At the centre of it, the Cornucopia looked the same as ever, a glittering golden horn that seemed so out of place in the middle of a field so plain and simple. The one vital difference today was the table that sat in front of its mouth. No doubt this would be where the gifts appeared from as soon as Seneca Crane cued their release.

"Peeta," Cato whispered from beside him, quietly capturing the other boy's attention. "As soon as the feast starts, I'm going to run in and grab the stuff. You wait back here for me unless I need you, okay?"

"What?" Peeta exclaimed in an overly loud voice, and the other boy shushed him with an irritated glare. "No way," he hissed, quieter this time. "I'm not letting you run out there on your own. What if something happens to you?"

"It won't, don't doubt me so much. I am pretty strong, you know." Cato gave him a small reassuring smile before continuing. "There's no point in both of us risking our lives, right? I'm a faster runner than you and I'd be able to get over there quicker, so it only makes sense for it to be me. Anyway, if something went wrong and I got caught up, it wouldn't take you a second to get out there and come and help me."

"Fine, I guess that makes sense." There wasn't much point in arguing because he knew that this was the most logical way to do things, but Peeta still wasn't happy with it. "You just want me to come and save you again, don't you?" he teased, and Cato growled, playfully punching him in the arm.

Then the all-too familiar anthem began to blare out, drawing their attention back to the task at hand. "Attention, attention Tributes!" came the cheerful call of the Head Gamemaker. "The feast will commence in a few minutes, just as soon as the gifts appear on the table. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

This sobered the two boys instantly as they both became alert, all of their attention focused towards their goal. Cato shook out his muscles one final time, leaning forwards, poised to run. Peeta armed himself with his sword, knowing his only duty here was to defend his ally. For some reason, this was even more nerve wracking to him than if he was the one risking his life.

Squinting at the table, Peeta could just about make out the way four large backpacks rose up from beneath and settled on four podiums which protruded out from the top. A second later, Cato was gone and a heavy sense of dread settled in Peeta's stomach.

He was so preoccupied with watching Cato's progress towards the golden horn that he almost missed a bright head of flaming hair emerging from within the Cornucopia, snatching up a backpack and darting off into the trees before anyone could stop her. Foxface. Damn it, since when was she so clever? Maybe they had underestimated her.

Cato was the next to arrive at the table, grabbing the pack marked with a large number two. He instantly turned to run back, not even sparing a glance over his shoulder to check that no one was behind him. That meant he didn't see Thresh approaching, large machete wielded firmly in hand. Terrified, Peeta wanted to call out a warning to the boy, but that would do nothing but alert the rest of the Tributes to his location.

If he did that, Cato would kill him.

Luckily the boy from Eleven seemed to want his supplies more than he wanted to kill Cato, reaching out for them and then tearing off into the trees in much the same manner as Foxface had, not even bothering to pursue the other boy. When Cato arrived back, panting and a little pink in the face, Peeta had to physically restrain himself from doing stupid like hugging him.

The feast hadn't exactly been the bloodbath they had been expecting, and Peeta would be willing to bet anything that the people back home in the Capitol felt a little cheated. It was practically unheard of for Tributes to meet at this stage in the Games and not even attempt to attack one another. Now there was only one pack left on the table, marked with a Twelve. It had to be Katniss and Rue's, but they appeared to be nowhere in sight.

Cato outstretched his fist and Peeta stared at it, confused for a moment until he remembered that this was a sign of respect or something back in District Two and bumped their knuckles together, grinning. The other boy smiled back triumphantly, throwing an arm over Peeta's shoulders as they began to make their way back to camp together, barely able to conceal their excitement. They were going to save Clove.

They were barely half way there when they heard the familiar boom of the cannon.

There were only seven Tributes left, five not including the two of them. It could be any one of them. It could be Clove. Panicking, they both broke into a sprint, the cheerful atmosphere between them immediately inverting itself into one of dread.

* * *

It was obvious as soon as they reached clearing that something was amiss. For one thing, Marvel was absent, and a ghostly silence had settled over the place, the air so stagnant and still that it seemed almost impossible that someone else could be there.

Each of them began calling out Clove's name, their voices became increasingly frantic as they were met with no response. Neither wanted to believe it was her, that she was dead. It couldn't be Clove, not now, so they searched relentlessly.

Then Peeta found her over by the remains of that morning's fire, body broken and eyes wide in terror, stomach punctured with a sword and throat slit. At least it had been quick. Choking back his horrified sob, he reached down gently closed her eyes so that it looked less like she was dead and more like she was asleep. He couldn't change the fact that she was surrounded by a pool of her own blood, though, nor could he clear the red stains from her porcelain skin.

He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye to her, to thank her for all she'd done.

The other boy appeared at his side, cursing loudly as he caught sight of his friend. He knelt down by her side, taking one of her cold palms between two of his own. "Clove," he choked, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Come on, Clove, wake up. Wake up, this isn't funny. You can't just leave me here like this. You can't leave me."

"Cato," Peeta mumbled, but found he didn't have the words to say. Nothing could make this any easier. There's no consolation to losing a friend. Crouching down beside him, Peeta placed a tentative arm on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "She's gone, Cato."

"Don't." He shook his head vehemently. "Don't say that. She isn't gone, she can't be."

So Peeta said nothing, just pulled the boy in closer.

In his mind, Peeta found himself playing out different scenarios, trying to figure out which had killed her. The wound was from a sword, not an arrow from Katniss or Marvel's spear, which ruled out two of the possible five killers, and somehow he doubted that Rue and Foxface would have been capable of such brutality. That just left Thresh, the boy who had attended the feast. He must have run straight here after he saw that Cato was occupied, seeing his window of opportunity to wipe out his opposition and grabbing it.

If they'd just been a bit quicker, ran back a bit faster, killed the boy at the Cornucopia, maybe she wouldn't be dead.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Cato clutching the girls dead hand between his fingers and Peeta holding him tight, each saying good bye in their own way to the girl that had helped them so much, given them so much. She had been their friend.

Balling up his hand into a fist, Cato fiercely wiped the tears from his eyes. "She wouldn't want me to be weak," he muttered, talking to himself more than Peeta. "She wouldn't want me to cry." Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the girl's forehead before whispering a quiet "Goodnight, Clove."

After a moment, Peeta did the same to her hand, then zipped her jacket up to hide the ugly wound. There was nothing more they could do. She was gone. Without further ado, the two got up and collected up their supplies and weapons to take with them on the next journey. They wouldn't be able to face coming back here again.

As they were walking away, they looked back at the hovercraft that was carting away the dead girl. Peeta pressed his fingers to his lips and raised them in the three-fingered salute of respect and farewell. Cato copied him, and for the first time they looked at each other. They both had tears streaming down their face, and neither cared about how weak it would make them appear to the audience.

"She's okay now." Peeta whispered. "She's okay."

Cato's face pulled into an expression not unlike pain as he forced himself to let go of the smart, clever, funny girl from his District that made him open up like no one else could. She'd always be his best friend, but he had to let her go. Peeta's expression mimicked Cato's as he did the same, then he enveloped Cato in a hug that both of them needed desperately.

They clung to each other, and Peeta could feel hot tears spilling out onto his neck as Cato attempted to hide his face from the cameras. Running a soothing hand through the boy's hair, he murmured a chorus of 'it's okay, we're gonna be okay' over and over, repeating it like a mantra. As they parted, Cato's hand made his way into Peeta's, like he needed to anchor himself to something. His eyes were rimmed red.

"What do we do now?" Peeta asked, giving the boy's fingers a gentle squeeze. As tempting as it was, they couldn't just stand around here crying all day.

"We find Marvel," Cato replied, eyes burning with hatred. "We find Marvel and we fucking kill him." As he spoke, another cannon sounded in the distance. Maybe the Capitol would get the bloodbath they had so desired after all.

* * *

Fingers still tightly laced together, the boys picked their way through the trees. Their search for the boy from District One seemed to be leading nowhere. They knew he wouldn't have strayed too far from their camp, seeing as he was so unfamiliar with the rest of the forests' surroundings, but so far they hadn't been able to find even a trace of him anywhere.

Then a piercing scream echoed through the woods, followed by the distinct sound of a girl sobbing. Peeta felt Cato tense beside him, cocking his head and listening for a moment before sprinting towards the sound, practically dragging the other boy behind him as he went. As they drew closer, Peeta began to recognize the voice behind the shouting.

Katniss.

"Get off me," she cried, her voice cracking around the words where her screaming had damaged it. "What do you want from me? Haven't you taken enough? Just… just kill me already! Kill me!"

Peeta hadn't seen the girl on friendly terms since their first day in the arena when she'd shot off the podium and into the woods. Their next encounter had been far from amicable - they had been trying to kill one another. She probably hated him now. He had helped the Careers chase her up that tree, and surround her with all intent to kill her. She'd outsmarted them back then, though, somehow dropping a whole nest of tracker jackers down on them as they slept.

He almost smiled at the memory. Back then, he would have never imagined that the next time they met, she'd be crying out for mercy. She had never seemed the type.

Stumbling, he pushed his way through the branches and brambles until he found her. The sight horrified him so much that he was left speechless. Katniss was strung up high, hung from a tree like a piñata. The rope around her neck tied like a noose, the type that holds fast under pressure rather than just tightening and putting its victim out of their misery.

At the base of the tree, Marvel stood clutching his damn spear. At his side laid the corpse of the little girl from Eleven, Rue. Her body was contorted at weird angles, as if he'd snapped each of her limbs one by one before he'd killed her.

Judging by the way he was treating Katniss, he had probably done just that. Each time the girl cried out, he would stretch his arm back and whack her with the sharp metal tip of his weapon, hard enough to tear the skin open but never enough to pierce anything vital. It was never enough to kill her. Over and over again he'd drive it towards her, laughing manically at her pain. She'd scream and cry each time, begging and pleading with him to stop.

She just wanted him to kill her.

"What are you doing away from camp?" Cato called out to him, subtly dropping Peeta's hand as the other boy turned to face him. Somehow he managed to keep his voice even, to make himself sound relatively calm. "I told you to stay and guard Clove."

Marvel's swings at his victim paused momentarily. "What does it look like I'm doing? I heard a noise, so I decided to follow it, and just look!" He looked so proud of himself as he gestured to the two girls. "I caught them, both of them and now I'm having a little fun with this one," he punctuated this with another jab into Katniss' side. She whimpered. "…Before I kill her." He flashed them a wide smirk. "You want in on the action?"

A predatory smirk formed on Cato's face, and he drew his sword quickly, nodding. Raising it, he angled it towards her and she flinched in anticipation of the blow that never came. Instead, using a quick maneuver he'd learnt back in his District, the boy drove the blade straight into Marvel. It sunk into the flesh just above his stomach.

It took a moment for what had happened it to register with Marvel as he glanced between the sword embedded in his body and his former ally in confusion. Then it dawned on him and he tried to lift his spear, to aim it at Cato's heart. The boy had seen that move coming, though, and whacked the weapon from his hand.

The spear, Marvel's only true friend in the arena, clattered to the floor. Even that had betrayed him in the end.

Cato drew his hand back, punching the boy square in the jaw and knocking him off his feet. Marvel was still breathing as he crashed down, just barely heaving heavy, labored pants.

In a second, Cato was crouched over him, gently smoothing the hair back from his face so that the cameras could get a perfect view of the boy's proud, cocky expression distorting into agony and fear as he died. Now everyone would see how weak Marvel truly was.

"I don't understand," the boy moaned, his bemused eyes locking with the other Career's. Blood bubbled up from his throat as he spoke, trickling past his lips and down over his chin. Thick trails of tears came afterwards, weaving small transparent paths through the river of sticky red blood. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I told you to stay with Clove. I told you to look after her. That's what I wanted," Cato spat. "Now she's dead and it's all your fault. If you'd just stayed with her, if you'd just… If you'd just waited, we could have still saved her."

From the floor, Marvel began to laugh, his body convulsing on the floor and throat choking on his own blood as he did so, but he was laughing nonetheless. "You still don't get it, do you?" he garbled, struggling to form his words right. "Or have you f-forgotten? Has your little Lover Boy over there made you… made you forget? This is a competition. You don't get to s-save people here. The only option… the only option is to kill them."

"Fuck you." Cato spat the words venomously as he straightened out his limbs, only standing up so he could look down on the boy properly. He wanted to savour this moment, to take in how pathetic the other looked. "This… This has been a long time coming. You always were a worthless piece of shit," he told him, running the blade of his sword across the boy's throat. Driving it straight through the skin, he whispered "I'll see you in hell."

For the third time that day, the boom of the cannon sounded.

* * *

Slowly Peeta approached the other boy, unsure of whether or not his comfort would soothe him or just irritate him. Quietly slipping his hand into Cato's, he bit his lip, bracing himself for rejection. It never came. Instead, the boy's hand shifted, his fingers tightening around Peeta's sweat-slicked palm.

Neither of them spoke, just stared down at Marvel's body. A serene sort of silence settled in over them, right up until a foot kicked out at the back of Peeta's head, knocking him right off balance. Cato dropped his hand in surprise, allowing the boy to crash to the floor. From where she hung, Katniss smirked, looking satisfied.

Once he realised what had happened, Cato began to laugh loudly. "What was that for?" Peeta huffed. "We just helped you, and this is how you repay us?" A few stray leaves and twigs had embedded themselves in his hair, making his indignant expression look even more ridiculous. Cato laughed harder.

She rolled her eyes. "No, that was for forgetting about me, you stupid asshole. I'm still dying over here, you know!" Her tone was light but her words were serious, the tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks. She was putting on a brave face, probably for the benefit of her friends and family back in Twelve. Clever girl. No one wanted to watch someone they love suffering.

"Oh, right." They still had to kill her. Somewhere down the line, he'd forgotten that minute detail. He scrambled back onto his feet, his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword.

Even as he drew it out, the boy knew he wouldn't be able to do it. A part of him wouldn't, still couldn't kill her. It was the part that remembered her from his first day of school, hair braided into two plaits instead of one, hand shooting up when the class was asked if anyone knew the valley song. The part that saw her trailing around with her freshly caught game, the part that ate her squirrels, the part that had tossed her that bread the day she sat outside his house in the rain, starving to death. He couldn't do it.

He couldn't bring himself to kill Katniss Everdeen.

Beside him, Cato drew his sword. Clearing his throat a little, he smiled at the girl weakly in an attempt to play along with her light approach to her own death. "I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. "I think you're punishing the wrong man over there. He couldn't kill you if he tried. I actually promised him that I would do it. I… I'm sorry that I didn't save you sooner. We never meant for you to have to suffer."

"It's okay," Katniss replied softly. "Please, just do it."

Peeta couldn't watch as the other boy pierced her heart with the sharp sword and Katniss Everdeen, the girl he had known all of his life, the hunter, the volunteer-for-her-sister, the hostile girl from the train and the girl he trained with drew her last breath.

Just as the cannon sounded, he felt a warm arm wrap around his waist, the grip strong and comforting. "C'mon, let's get out of here." His voice was soft and gentle, calming. "I think that's more than enough killing for one day." Cato tugged him along, out of the clearing and away from the three dead bodies so that the Capitol could come and collect them.

Neither boy wanted to acknowledge the fact that there weren't many left to kill now, because that would mean accepting the fact that their alliance was coming to an end. It had been so fragile at first, so breakable and yet somehow, somewhere during the course of the past week or so, the two of them had become completely dependent on one another.

Right now, they needed each other more than ever.

That was a dangerous need to have. After all, there were only four people still living and breathing left in this arena. Four remaining of the original twenty-four. In just a few days, if not sooner, they would be forced to fight to the death. Only one of them would survive.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello hi, hey everyone and thank you for reading! Kind of a lot happened this chapter, so as ever we'd love to hear what you think! Reviews are wonderful things and they make writing this so much more fun for us, so if you have the time please leave one! Seriously, we'd really appreciate it! We have exams, so might be a while until the next update. Sorry! Much love, and have a nice rest of the week you guys!


	11. Chapter 11

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 11**

* * *

If the change hadn't been a result of one of his best friend's deaths, Peeta would have laughed at how much things could distort themselves overnight in the arena. It was like things had reversed, the powerful going to the powerless quicker than you could blink. Just that morning, they had been the most formidable contestants in the entire competition. Careers. They thought that they were untouchable. Maybe that was what had made them so complacent.

Maybe that was why Clove was dead.

He couldn't help but remember how had they had sprinted off to the Cornucopia, truly believing that they could save her. Now look at them, alone together without even a fire to keep them warm. It was too dangerous to light a fire now, tucked away here amongst the trees. Unlike before, where no one would dare to even venture near their campsite, they no longer had the resources or the manpower they needed to fend off potential attacks.

Honestly, being stabbed in their sleep by Thresh wasn't something that sounded particularly appealing to either of them so, for the first time since they had entered the arena, the pair found themselves in hiding out in the woods, as far away from their previous camp as they dared to go.

It was weird, just the two of them, weird and strangely quiet. Every now and again, Peeta would catch himself about to make a snide comment about Marvel, or glancing around the new, unfamiliar clearing for Clove or even the boy from Three. Then he'd remember that they were all dead. It hardly made for a cheerful atmosphere.

To distract himself and prepare them for the night ahead, Peeta had dug up some roots, camouflaging them both the same dirt-brown and greens as the forest around them while Cato pretended not to be impressed by the boy's talent.

"Where did you learn to do that?" he asked stiffly, watching closely as his own hand turned from creamy white to khaki under Peeta's gentle touch.

"Unlike some people who were preoccupied with scaring the hell out of everyone, I actually noticed that there was a camouflage station in the Training Center." Peeta kept his tone light and teasing, and the other boy scoffed and glared back at him. In that moment, things almost felt like they were back to normal.

"Wait, that doesn't make sense." Cato suddenly sat up and looked right at him, his expression growing confused as his eyebrows knitted together above his soft blue eyes. "You didn't go to that station either, I would have noticed if you did."

"What, were you watching me or something?" Only half-joking, Peeta couldn't quite keep the hint of curiosity out of his voice or the small smirk from his face.

Cato blushed. "Maybe," he mumbled, looking away. "Don't flatter yourself, though, it wasn't like that. I was watching everyone, okay? It's not like it was just you or anything. I had to, you know, to get a good idea of my competition in the arena or whatever."

"Sure you did." Peeta grinned back at him, clearly unconvinced, and Cato scowled at his insincerity. Ignoring this, the boy just reached up to smudge a deep green streak across the other's cheek, laughing at the the way his face scrunched up in disgust.

"Get off me!" Cato tried to growl the words in a threatening manner, but he sounded more like an irritated kitten that had been robbed of its perfect napping spot. Peeta only laughed harder. "Shut up. You didn't answer my question."

"You're right." The boy took a deep, calming breath to rid himself of his temporary hysteria before continuing. "I didn't go to the station during training, no, but I knew it was there. I watched a few other people talking to the instructors, and figured out how it worked from that. I guessed I'd be pretty good at this, seeing as I help to decorate the cakes back home." He shrugged modestly. "It's not all that different really."

"Oh." Cato stared down at his arm. It blended into their surroundings perfectly, so much so that he wouldn't have noticed it was there if it weren't, you know, attached to his torso. "That's kind of cool."

"Thanks." Peeta had to restrain himself from getting too excited by the praise, knowing that compliments from the other boy were pretty hard to come by. Just because they were friends, it didn't mean he shouldn't play it cool. "Are you done with the inquisition now? I need you to hold still so I can finish off covering your face."

"Why would you want to conceal a face this beautiful?" Cato demanded, mock-hurt. Rather than laughing it off or rolling his eyes like the boy expected him to, Peeta simply stared back at him, eyes carefully tracing every line and freckle and contour of his face. It was like he was committing it to memory or something. When the silence started to get uncomfortable, Cato cleared his throat. "What are you staring at? Is there something on my face?"

"What?" Peeta blinked, momentarily confused, and then shook his head. "No, there isn't. I was just… just figuring out the best way to cover it up. Don't move, okay? This shouldn't take a minute." Beside him, Cato nodded once. Peeta could feel it when he tensed all of his muscles, posture becoming rigid, locked in place.

The boy was stretched out on his back, propped up on his elbows, chin tilted up slightly to offer Peeta the best access as he leant over him. He could feel Cato's piercing blue gaze on him as he worked, carefully rubbing the makeshift paint across the boy's soft skin in streaks and swirls that mirrored the leaves and the trees.

When he finished, he sat back to admire his handiwork. "How do I look?" Cato asked, pouting his lips out dramatically under Peeta's critical eye. "Am I still gorgeous?"

"No. You look like the mutant offspring of two trees."

Rolling his eyes, Cato mumbled something about how he'd bet anything that his tree-parents would be the hottest trees in the forest. Waggling his eyebrows, he said, "I'm sure their trunks are pretty sturdy, too. Nice and reliable, strong, tough and hard to break."

Weirdly enough, that did sound strangely fitting.

* * *

As dusk enveloped what little light from day that remained in the arena, twilight reaching its gloomiest, the two boys piled all that remained of their supplies into a messy bundle in the middle of the clearing. They didn't have a lot, just five of Clove's small knives, two daggers, three swords, two water skins, a pack of matches and some water purifier alongside several other gifts from sponsors, one sleeping bag and a bulky backpack filled with rope.

It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

Setting up camp had been easy enough after that - it was hardly going to be a long process with so few supplies - but as they settled in for the night, it became painfully obvious how much harder the games truly were when you weren't with the Careers.

There was no fire, no large group of people to switch over shifts when keeping watch at night and no tower-high stack of supplies to turn to. Honestly, Peeta had no idea how Katniss had managed to survive out here on her own for so long with just that weak little girl from Eleven for company. He knew for sure that he couldn't have.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, all the two boys wanted to do was close their eyes and fall asleep forever. Of course, in the arena things were never that simple. One of them still had to stay up and keep watch. To make matters worse, it seemed the Gamemakers had decided to punish the remaining Tributes further still by lowering the temperature to below freezing. As if they hadn't suffered enough for one day.

"Hey, Peeta." From where he sat a little way away, Cato called out to him softly. "You look pretty tired. Go and get some sleep, I'll take the first watch."

"No way, don't be so stupid." The boy shook his head firmly. "You took watch the whole of last night, and I know for a fact that you haven't slept in like, two days or something crazy like that." Cato grimaced at this, not even trying to deny it. "Look, I'll take watch. I owe you one anyway. You go to sleep."

Cato sighed a little, knowing better than to argue with the other boy about this. It would be pointless, considering that Peeta was undeniably right. He was too tired to fight a losing battle so he gave in, reaching out for the only sleeping bag they had and hesitantly climbing into it. Safely tucked away inside, he let his eyes slowly drift shut.

He didn't want to sleep, though. In all honesty, he'd been avoiding it ever since that snare had injured Clove, worried about what nightmares might plague his subconscious mind. At least when he was awake he could fend off the memories, force the overwhelming sense of loss and guilt he felt out of the foreground of his mind by focusing on the competition, surviving and Peeta. Asleep, he had no control of what he did or didn't remember.

Not having control. That scared him.

"Stop worrying so much," Peeta instructed suddenly, as if he could read Cato's mind. "You need to relax." Peeking an eye open, he saw that the boy was watching him intently from across the clearing. "Seriously, you're never going to get to sleep if you tense up like that."

Nodding, Cato willed his muscles to relax, just to put the other boy's mind at ease. Of course, he wasn't planning on actually sleeping, but he knew Peeta would be annoyed if he didn't at least pretend to. It would be a hell of a lot easier if his body wasn't so damn rigid.

Thinking back to that time his parents sent him to anger management classes when he was twelve, after he smashed the windows of the girl who tried to kiss him's house (he'd still swear that was perfectly justified and that she deserved it), he tried to recall the meditation techniques they taught him there. You're in a field. Everything is peaceful. Breathe in. Breathe out. When it didn't work, he huffed loudly in frustration. He'd said it at the time and he'd say it again now. Meditation was a load of crap.

Then he heard Peeta chuckle, closer than before. "Shut up," he muttered, indignant, eyes snapping open to fix the other boy with a glare. "This so isn't funny."

"Sorry," he said seriously. "I know it isn't." He shifted in place so that he was sitting just a few inches away from where Cato's head rested on the ground and wait, what? When had he even gotten close enough to do that? "Just try and get some sleep, okay? I'll be right here if you need me."

Nodding again, he had to bite back the urge to ask just exactly what made him think that Cato needed him. There was no point in being rude about it. It's not like he'd be fooling anyone, so he just closed his eyes once more, focused on the rhythmic sound of Peeta's quiet breathing beside him. Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, he'd be able to hear the steady thump of the boy's heart as it pounded in his chest.

Smiling, Peeta watched as the older boy fell asleep.

* * *

It was cold, really cold and Peeta shivered violently. Under his flimsy jacket his arms were covered in goose bumps, chills ran up and down his spine and his teeth chattered together. Every time he inhaled the frozen air stung his nose and each breath he let out curled around him in a frosty white mist. Tugging the material tighter around his shoulders, he rubbed his palms together to get the circulation back into them. The last thing he needed was frostbite.

A few hours had passed since Cato had fallen asleep, wrapped up warm inside the thickly insulated sleeping bag. Every now and again he would toss or turn over in his sleep, a frown marring his peaceful expression. His forehead was slicked with a light sheen of sweat. Peeta watched him worriedly, wondering whether to wake him up from any nightmares or to just let him rest. Eventually he settled on the latter, knowing that the boy desperately needed to sleep.

Frustrated, he hugged his arms around his chest and curled inward on himself. He hated being so cold and helpless. The Gamemakers must be doing this to taunt him, knowing that having only one sleeping bag would mean that Peeta would have had to share with the other boy – he could just as easily climb in there with him as he could kiss the boy again. He didn't, though. He couldn't risk making a fool of himself this late in the game.

When a light whistle of a snore came from his side, Peeta smiled in spite of himself. Maybe Cato had finally relaxed. He looked over at his face, which was almost eerily white, glowing in the moonlight in the places which Peeta didn't cover properly. His slow puffs of breath didn't immediately turn to frost like Peeta's did, and his cheeks beneath the makeshift paint would probably be pink and flushed.

He sighed, but couldn't find it in himself to be irritated at the boy's comfort. No matter how freezing he was, he couldn't. Instead, he just rubbed his arms together again. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

His muscles were stiff and aching as a result of barely moving throughout the night. After around an hour of shifting about, he'd gotten himself into the position that gave him the most warmth. He wasn't going to spoil that for anything, choosing to simply lock himself in place. At the time he was certain it was perfect, offering the most protection from the icy breezes where he could still keep lookout. Four hours later, his sore limbs weren't so sure.

Stretching his arms above his head, he grimaced when the bones cracked back into place with a series of loud clicks. Keeping his eyes wide open was becoming a bit of a struggle, so he wiped at them furiously in an attempt to ward off any visual symptoms of tiredness. With a sigh, he and proceeded to extend his legs out and click his back into place. It was much warmer now, but still not even close to the blistering heat of the first few days in the arena.

Close beside him, Cato grunted and then shifted in his sleep. Peeta looked up at the sky to gauge the time more accurately. You tend to lose your sense of the passing hours when lost in thought. The clouds above him swirled their way across a sea of ambers and yellows, golden streaks stretching out through the trees as the glowing orb of red sunlight began to claw its way up the sky. Peeta was mesmerized at the beauty before him – he was sure that sunrise in District Twelve had never been quite so breathtaking – completely forgetting about his situation and even the other boy until he was felt someone nudging him in the side.

"Morning," Cato mumbled, rubbing his eyes blearily as he battled his way out of the thick cocoon of their sleeping bag. Detangling his limbs with no small amount of effort, the boy threw the material to one side with a scowl. The other boy raised his eyebrows at him.

"Good sleep?" Peeta tried to keep his tone light and casual, but he couldn't keep the tinge of bitterness out of his voice. Cato seemed to notice this as he smirked.

"Yeah. Excellent, actually." Still smirking, the boy sat down close beside him. "Thanks for that, by the way." At this his expression softened, smile becoming more sincere and Peeta couldn't remember what he had been upset about anymore, only that it didn't matter. He smiled back tiredly, running his fingers through his hair.

"It's okay," Peeta shrugged. "Don't mention it."

Cato shot him another grateful smile, clearly a whole lot more cheerful now that he'd slept a little. Peeta found that he was almost disappointed at this – as unlikely as he was to admit it, he sort of liked it when the other boy was grouchy. Realising a little too late that he was staring, Peeta glanced away. Cato looked like he was about to say something, but before he could a deep rumble sounded from his stomach and his cheeks coloured, embarrassed.

Laughing, Peeta stood up and offered a hand out to the other boy. "Sounds like someone's hungry," he teased, "I think it might be time to go hunting." He winked down at Cato who glared back at him, but there was no heat behind it. They'd moved beyond that. The boy grabbed his arm and yanked himself up before bending down to collect the sleeping bag and releasing Peeta's hand. If his touch lingered a couple of seconds too long, neither of them mentioned it.

"Fine, let's go hunting." He agreed, shoving the thick material in the backpack Peeta was wearing. It barely fit, but somehow he managed to cram it all in, proudly tugging the zipper closed when he was done. "Are we heading into the woods?"

"I guess so." Peeta nodded in assent and they both fell in step with one another, Peeta holding his knife handle warily while Cato swung the sword loosely by his side.

As they ventured further into the forest, Cato opened his mouth to speak, bored by the long stretch of silence. When Peeta shushed him with a finger, the boy looked mildly affronted until he noticed the deer watching them balefully between two trees. He glanced between them and the deer and weighed up the distance. He was no Clove, and it was too far for him to throw his weapon ensuring any degree of accuracy. The deer would probably scamper away before the knife even left his grasp. Peeta bit his lip. They were both strong boys with a large appetite. This would be an excellent kill.

He motioned at Cato to creep forward slightly, and the two boys edged their way over to the creature, all the while nervously avoiding twigs and branches that would crack under their feet and scare the deer away. As they drew closer, Peeta's fingers tightened on the knife. He angled himself so he was walking toward the deer's front, knowing that it would be an easier kill if he could pierce the neck.

Just as he decided he could probably aim from the distance he was at, Cato swore loudly as he stumbled over a stray branch and cracked his head on a nearby tree. In any other situation it would be funny, but Peeta only managed to catch the hind legs of the deer running away before it was out of sight. He turned around, irritated and his face clearly conveying it, but Cato just growled.

"It's not my fault." He hissed. "I'm sorry that the deer ran away, but don't even think about giving me a lecture on it. It's not like I did that on purpose, and my head fucking hurts!" He clutched at his temples and moaned a little, feeling the tender skin with his fingertips to check that he wasn't bleeding to death or anything.

Peeta sighed. "Fine. Be more careful next time. Is it really bad or can we move on?"

Cato just looked at him distastefully, telling him without even speaking that they were going to continue. It had hurt, but it's not like a bit of pain could quench a hungry appetite. Pleased by this, Peeta made the subconscious decision to follow the deer. It felt like a mission now. Something to hunt. Something to kill. They needed this.

* * *

Two hours later, long after Cato's cheerful mood from the morning disappeared completely, the boys finally managed to track down the deer without it running away. The creature began to sit down, facing the other way and completely oblivious to the two hunters crouching down in the trees behind it. Peeta smirked triumphantly. The deer shouldn't have let its guard down so easily.

He drew his knife further up as Cato matched his movement with his sword, and both prepared to sink the metal through the animal's flesh.

Peeta felt his lips stretch into an almost feral grin, his stomach growling in anticipation as he stabbed the deer through the neck. He'd never been this hungry before in his life. Not just for food – he was hungry for a kill. His gut contracted painfully as he tugged his knife through the deer's throat, blood spurting out and hitting his face.

He didn't stop carving out patterns in the blood-soaked fur until he was completely sure it was dead. He had actually waited for a few minutes for a cannon to sound before he realised how stupid he was being, then he turned round to face Cato. The other boy was studying him speculatively, and his sword didn't have even a speck of blood on it.

Cato noticed him looking at his sword and shrugged. "You seemed to be doing a pretty good job on your own." He explained, continuing to study the other through slightly narrowed eyes. Peeta felt uncomfortable, like he'd been caught licking the frosting from the cakes in the shop window by his mother or something.

It was only then that he remembered the warm blood on his face and hastily wiped it off with his sleeve, fighting down a blush. Why was he embarrassed?

Scrubbing the reddened skin with his jacket again, he wondered if the blood was gone or if it still sat there, smeared across his face. Would the other boy be disgusted by it? If only he had a mirror. By the time he looked up again, worried eyes meeting light blue ones, Cato was no longer studying him with the same intensity.

He was just smiling at him now, a small smile that made Peeta weirdly nervous. "Come on then, Lover Boy," he said, chivalrously holding out his arm to help the other boy back to his feet. "Let's go and find a place to eat this beast."

Still crouched over the bleeding deer, Peeta frowned at the nickname – he would never get used to it – and declined the boy's hand, preferring to push himself up off the ground while fixing him with a steady glower. Cato laughed out loud, head rolling back on his neck.

"Stop laughing and help me get this." The boy snapped, then smiled at the other boy to show he wasn't really mad. Reaching down, he grabbed the deer's back legs while Cato managed the front. Between the two of them they managed to haul it up and onto their shoulders, sharing the heavy weight between them as they walked slowly along the dirt path.

* * *

The hours passed amicably, light chatter gradually turning to a comfortable silence as time stretched ahead. When they grew tired, they stopped one of the denser parts of the forest, putting the heavy carcass down to rest their aching shoulders. Caught up in all the excitement of their great catch, somehow they had neglected to remember how ravenously hungry they were. Peeta's stomach actually throbbed now, painfully empty and giving him hell for it.

"We really need to eat," he announced loudly. "Seriously, if I don't consume something soon I'm going to pass out and die."

He didn't realise his poor humour until Cato shot him a look that said 'that joke is really not funny' before nodding in agreement. Too pleased at the prospect of eating to feel guilty, he opted instead to attempt to make himself useful. He collected some wood and fashioned a makeshift spit while Cato used a small knife to carefully cut two large chunks from the deer's body. Then they cooked it slowly over a small fire, praying that the smoke wouldn't rise up through the leaves and give them away.

"It's weird just the two of us," Peeta mumbled a little later around a large mouthful of meat. Cato looked over at him thoughtfully, slowly chewing on his own meal, savouring the taste like he'd never eat another meal again.

"Yeah, I guess." The other boy shrugged noncommittally. "I didn't expect it to be so quiet, just us. I kind of thought we'd be at each other's throat the whole time or something without Clove to stop us."

Peeta chuckled sadly. "I didn't think we'd cope without her."

"Well, it looks like we're proving you wrong." Cato smiled warmly, but it was clear he didn't want to talk about this or about her. "Maybe she was right about you all along. You're not as bad as I thought."

"What do you mean, maybe?" Peeta repeated, incredulous. After all of this and everything they'd been through together, the other boy still doubted his value. Rolling his eyes, Cato shook his head and poked the boy gently in the side.

"Hey, don't be mad at me," he said, knowing he'd unintentionally struck a nerve. "I didn't really mean that, stupid."

"Yeah." His face still sported a disgruntled expression, and he let out a long sigh before talking again. "I know you didn't, don't worry about it."

They finished their meal in a tense sort of silence, neither of them particularly angry at the other but not really knowing what to say to get the conversation flowing again. Peeta put it down to the fact that they were both still sore about losing their friend. It was something that affected both of them in the same way, and gave them something in common. A weakness they shared.

As much as he hated to admit it, a part of Peeta knew that their alliance was stronger thanks to the girl's death. It was the only thing that could make them understand how much they needed each other in this arena, and although it was hard to deal with sometimes, he knew that it had bound the two boys even tighter, pulled them that little bit closer together – the kind of closeness where they bickered but about nothing just to keep themselves grounded, to make things feel like they were still normal and they were going to be okay.

It was easier to be together now, more natural and less explosive. Before, Cato couldn't wait to shake the boy off and Peeta had trailed around after him like a lost puppy. Now they were both just grateful for that little extra company.

By the time they had both devoured their meal, it had to be around mid-afternoon. It was weird how time seemed to flow in the arena, some hours dragging on while others flitted by so quickly that if you blinked, you'd miss them.

"Do you want to stay here and set up our stuff or move on?" Cato said, glancing around the surrounding trees and raising his eyebrows in question. For a moment, Peeta considered the area, surveying it properly for the first time. Yes, it looked like a well-hidden spot, but he couldn't shake off a sense of unease that it was taken by someone else already.

He shook his head ever so slightly. Something was telling him that they couldn't stay there, and he'd learnt from experience that at times like these, it's always best to stick with your gut. "Let's find somewhere else. I have feeling that there's something better out there."

"Okay," Cato agreed easily, and Peeta was surprised. "How about we keep going for another half an hour or so. If we don't find something better, we can fall back here?"

The other boy nodded and smiled, wondering if this was Cato's way of making it up to him about that comment he had made earlier. Knowing him, it probably was. Gathering their supplies together once more and hauling the deer back onto their shoulders, the two left that part of the forest behind them in search of somewhere new.

* * *

Every single tree looked the same. The repetitiveness of browns and greens did well for their cover and made it easy for him to use camouflage, but Peeta found it so tiresome. Maybe it's because he never really liked the forests anyway. They always looked so foreboding and out of bounds behind the high electrical fences back in his District – he never understood how Katniss was so comfortable in them. Then again, he guessed she had to be.

He shook his head to clear thoughts of the dead girl out. He surprised himself by how often he had to control his own thoughts nowadays. He was constantly setting up walls and blocks and it made him feel uncomfortable, like a stranger in his own mind.

"Watch out!" Cato warned suddenly, grabbing his arm and yanking him out of the way of something. Peeta looked down to see what the other boy was pointing at – a wooden stake stuck up in some sort of trap. A snare. Glancing around, he realised that the ground around him was filled with them.

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Katniss. They must have stumbled across the place where the two girls had set up camp, back when they were still alive. He couldn't help sadness spreading throughout him. He clenched his fist and set his jaw in a straight, tense line. He didn't want to give anything away. He constantly had to think of how other people – people on the outside – were viewing him. Judging him.

He thought he was doing a pretty okay job. Making sure he kept his voice steady, he turned away from the snare. "Must have been where-" but he cut off, shaking his head. "Let's move on." He suggested in a low voice, and his voice cracked a little but he didn't acknowledge it, and neither did Cato. However, when they got out of that section of the forest the boy stuck close to Peeta, both walking side by side, arms bumping every couple of seconds.

After around five minutes of this, when Peeta was feeling a bit better, he looked up at the other boy. Cato just smiled down at him, squeezed his arm quickly then widened the gap between them a little. Peeta felt touched at how the boy was, in his own silent and slightly awkward way, trying to comfort him. He smiled at the ground, and noticed thick mud on the floor. This started him thinking about how he hadn't had a drink of water all day, and all at once his throat seemed to realise this as it began screaming in protest, its scratchy dryness hurting him.

"We should get some water." He said suddenly. Cato began to decide whether he was thirsty it seemed, cocking his head to one side and tapping his lip with his finger. Peeta decided to rephrase. "I need water."

Cato smiled at him and shook his head somewhat fondly.

"Let's go then." He gestured in the direction of the mud path, and they both followed it until the ground became less dry and more waterlogged, knowing that there must be a water source within ten minutes distance now, easily. Peeta spotted a small spring a few metres away and ran towards it desperately, without thinking.

Kneeling down by the side of the spring, it took all his self-control not to just plunge his head into it, instead pulling out his water skin from the backpack, tugging it off his back and unzipping it frantically. He stuck the water skin into the water, wasting no time. Digging out the small bottle of iodine, he grimaced. All he could do was wait for the iodine to purify the water. The only thing stopping him from taking the risk was the memory of a tribute he'd watched in a previous year that did the very same thing. He had grown steadily more and more ill and ended up throwing up constantly. What a pathetic way to go.

Peeta sat back and simply watched the water moving around in the spring, seeing the light catching on the waves and studying it for later use. If he ever got out of there, it would be an amazing image to capture on a canvas. He began to muse on what colours would perfectly portray that moment before he remembered he had an ally.

"Cato?" He called, furrowing his brow. He hadn't seen him since he'd spotted the spring, which must have been at least ten minutes ago. Damn, he thought. He had to stop letting his thoughts run away from him. He began to stand up, worried, before the other boy popped his head around the corner, smiling.

"I think I found a great place for us to came!" He called excitedly. "Come on!"

Peeta stood up with a look of sorrow on his face. "Another fifteen minutes before I can drink the water. Can we wait until then so then I can fill it up again?"

Cato laughed at Peeta's obvious sorrow, and made a pathetic attempt to cover it up with a series of faked coughs when the other boy didn't show any signs of being amused.

"Peeta...you do know the Capitol enhances that stuff?" Peeta looked at him, confused. "It's made better so it only takes what, two minutes to purify?" He could tell the other boy still wasn't following so continued with a sigh. "Look at it this way – the audience in the Capitol got bored of watching tributes just sit around for water when they could have been doing something interesting, like getting killed." He smirked cockily. "So they sped up the process. Now drink your water and fill it up again so we can leave! C'mon, Peeta, I've got to show you this place!"

Peeta obediently downed the water, the sweet relief of the liquid gliding down his throat enough to make him sigh in pleasure and smile. He quickly refilled it and didn't even bother to add the drops to purify it yet. If it did only take two minutes, Cato could hold out until they got to the spot where he was taking them.

The boy was tapping his foot impatiently and when Peeta got close to him he literally grabbed his wrist and dragged him through a thicket of bushes so fast that a thorn scratched his cheek.

"Ow! Cato, be careful, you idiot!" He frowned at him and rubbed his face indignantly, frowning harder when blood stained his fingertip.

"Sorry..." He looked sheepish and released Peeta's wrist – not before giving it a soothing squeeze. "But hey, we're here!"

Peeta looked around at where Cato was grinning. He didn't see it at first, a bush concealing most of the entrance, but when he neared it, he could see it much clearer. A deep cave.

"Have you-"

"Yeah, already checked. Nothing in there – no sign of anyone." He grinned. "Or anything. So what do you say? It'll be a good place for us to conceal ourselves, right? Might even be able to grab a few hours sleep..." He winked at Peeta, but he suddenly looked a bit unsure of himself, like he was worried that the other boy would laugh at him or something.

Peeta considered. It would be good protection from the wind, rain and any other weather that could befall them. It was close to a water supply and they could easily disguise the entrance. And most importantly, though he wouldn't have admitted it, it would protect them against other tributes. Oh, and Peeta was really in need of that sleep.

"Yeah, it's perfect!" He smiled at Cato who just looked on in relief. "So… let's get inside?"

* * *

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Sorry it took so long to update (it feels like forever) but it's finally here! Again, it might take a while for the next update because we still have a few weeks left of exams - if you're reading and you can find the time, please leave us review. We love hearing what you think, any and all feedback makes skipping studying time to write totally worth it. As always, thank you for reading and hopefully we'll see you again soon!


	12. Chapter 12

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 12**

* * *

Although the cave was undoubtedly a perfect hideout for the two of them, this was not the case for the heavy carcass they carried. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't get what remained of the deer's body to fit through its narrow mouth. They had attempted carrying it, pushing it, forcing it, sliding it and rolling it, all without success. Nothing seemed to work. It really didn't help that the late-afternoon sun was swelteringly hot. They were both flushed and sweating heavily by the time they decided to give up.

"This isn't going to fit." Cato huffed, clearly frustrated as he kicked the deer in the side with the toe of his boot. Fresh blood bubbled up from the open wound that tore through the flesh there and splattered out over the soft brown leather. "What do we do now?"

"I know it isn't." Peeta rolled his eyes at the other boy because yes, they had established that hours ago. As for what to do with the deer, he didn't know. It wasn't like they could just ditch the thing outside of the cave – no, a huge dead animal conveniently just abandoned outside in the open would be far too much of a giveaway to any other tributes passing by. They couldn't afford to be obvious anymore.

It seemed Cato had come to the same conclusion, angrily lashing out at the deer again. He kicked it repeatedly, cursing under his breath. This time, the sound of its ribs cracking and breaking under the force of the attack could be heard. Peeta cringed. "Ease up, would you?" he asked the other boy sharply. "It's already dead, there's no need to mutilate it further."

"Oh, is it bothering you? Sorry." Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he took a step back from the animal and studied it pensively. "Alright, I have an idea. How about you go ahead and set up our stuff while I stay out here and cut off the rest of the meat we can use? We can store that in the cave, and then you can help me move whatever's left of it away from here."

"Okay." Surprised at this easy solution, Peeta nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good to me."

Practically beaming with childish pride that his suggestion had been helpful, Cato pulled out his knife and crouched down low over the deer. Even though he had other things to do, Peeta lingered outside for a minute, watching as the boy's expression slowly sunk into one of deep concentration as he worked. His eyebrows knitted together across his forehead, nose creasing slightly in between them and the tip of his pink tongue peeked out from between his lips.

Blinking rapidly, he hurriedly tore his gaze away before the other boy could look up at catch him staring. Reaching down to pick up their backpack and his sword, he had to struggle with himself not to glance back as he ducked into the cave.

* * *

The cave was cool and shady, conveniently sheltered from the scorching heat outside. Peeta sighed in relief, quickly shaking the sticky material of his t-shirt away from the damp skin on his torso. The cold air around him felt so nice against his chest that he was half tempted to strip his shirt off entirely. He didn't though, conscious of the fact that about half of Panem was probably watching him right now. That, and the fact he didn't want Cato to walk in on him half-naked, which could be potentially awkward.

Unpacking their supplies only took a few minutes. He rolled the sleeping bag out against the floor of the cave, unraveling it so that it was more like a rug pushed up against one of the cave's stone walls than anything else. Slinging his jacket down on top of it, he sat down on the uneven floor and arranged the swords and the knives in a neat row, angled carefully so that they all pointed away from him.

It was weird to think that to some people, weapons looked scary and dangerous. Hell, a few weeks ago he had been one of them. Now he only saw the sharp sliver blades as comforting, knowing that they were one of the few things that could protect him here. They were just as likely to save his life as they were to take it. He couldn't help but feel grateful for that.

"Hey, Peeta, are you done in there?" The other boy interrupted his thoughts loudly, his bright blond head suddenly peeking around the entrance to the cave. It seemed to take a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark of the cave and settle on Peeta, but when they did his small smile doubled in size. "I've just finished with the deer," he announced proudly. "I could kind of use your help shifting it, though. Have you got a minute?"

"That was quick? But sure, of course I'll help. I just finished up anyway." He hastily pushed himself back upright, frowning at the way the dirt and gravel cling to his sweat-slicked palms. Rubbing them clean on his trouser leg, he made his way back outside.

Cato was hunched over the deer. It was barely recognizable anymore, hollowed out entirely by countless strokes of the boy's knife. Beside him lay several thick red pieces of meat, still dripping in parts with fresh blood. Not exactly a pleasant sight, so instead Peeta stared at the ivory planes boy's back, studying the way his muscles rippled as he moved intently.

It wasn't until his gaze had climbed halfway up his spine, counting out each of the vertebra that protruded out of the dip between his sharp shoulder blades, that what he was looking at actually registered with him. The other boy had taken his shirt off.

The next thing that registered was the fact that Cato had been speaking that whole time, apparently oblivious to Peeta's distraction. Even though he struggled desperately to make himself focus, he only caught the last few words. "…that you could get the legs, right?"

"Wait, what?" He blurted out stupidly. "Cato, why are you topless?"

"I was kind of hot," he replied simply, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder like it was nothing. It wasn't until after a few seconds of silence from Peeta's end that he even realised that something was amiss, and he glanced back at his friend curiously. The half-smile he wore instantly died on his lips as he took in the other boy's startled expression. Then he froze in place, a deep red blush blossoming across his cheeks.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." He flailed around somewhat frantically in an attempt to simultaneously cover himself up and duck his body out of Peeta's sight. "I didn't realise that this would… I didn't think this would bother you, I'm sorry. I'll just, uh. Let me find my shirt and I'll put it back on. Oh god. I'm so, so sorry."

"No!" The other boy replied, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He cleared his throat. "I mean, uh. No. You don't have to do that, it's fine. Really, it's fine. I don't mind you being like that or anything. I was just surprised, that's all."

Cato paused, bright blue eyes blown wide with shock, cheeks still flushed. Cocking his head to one side, he stared at Peeta anxiously. "Oh right, okay then." He sounded unconvinced, voice smaller than usual and far less certain. "Are you sure you don't mind? I'll put my shirt back on if you think it's weird. I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"Calm down, Cato. I already told you I don't mind." Rolling his eyes, Peeta reached out and flicked the boy in the forehead, breaking the awkward tension before it had a chance to really settle in between them. The other boy jerked back, the familiar scowl returning to his face.

"Did you just flick me?" he asked, incredulous.

"Nope, I don't think so." He shook his head adamantly before wavering slightly, pretending to puzzle over it. "At least, not that I can recall." Cato growled beside him, a sure sign that he was getting irritated. "Hey, enough of that." Peeta scolded lightly, laughing as he reached down and ruffled the boy's hair playfully. "We have work to do, remember? Now what was that about me and the legs?"

Still pouting slightly, the boy quickly repeated his former instructions. Peeta forced himself to actually listen this time, nodding in all the right places and pointedly not allowing his eyes wander anywhere lower than Cato's neck. That being said, it was a very nice neck.

As they lifted up the deer's body for the last time, carrying it off into the trees, he took a moment to appreciate the fact that he was managing the hind legs while the other steered the way up front. From here, Peeta had a perfect view of the way Cato's muscles shifted under his skin as he walked, the deeply carved dips and paths across his back flattening out into smooth planes as they contracted and then relaxed.

Last time he'd seen the boy's skin exposed like this, it had been blistered and swollen by the tracker jacker stings. Looking at him now, taking in his flawless cream complexion, he almost wouldn't have believed that the skin there had ever been marked and damaged at all.

Not that he was staring, or anything.

* * *

It was touching on nightfall when they arrived back at the cave, dusk settling thickly into the air around them. They had buried the deer in a thicket of branches and brambles about half an hour's walk from their new camp, tucked away and obscured by the forest. As time wore on, the searing heat had relented and cooled a little.

Peeta was almost disappointed when, as soon as they returned, the other boy began to shrug himself back into his t-shirt. Thinking fast, he placed a hand on the small of Cato's back, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

"I don't think you should do that," he muttered lowly, so quiet he was sure that the cameras wouldn't be able to pick up the sound. "Keep it off, the sponsors will love it."

"What?" Cato whispered back, shirt still tangled around his neck. "What do you mean?"

"Well, do you remember that really good looking guy a few years ago who got like a million parachutes a day or something because everyone loved him so much?" Peeta asked, thinking fast. The other boy nodded back, still looking confused. "Well, maybe they'll appreciate something nice to look at. There are only a few of us left, and Foxface and Thresh aren't exactly a sight for sore eyes."

"Oh." There was a slight pause before he continued. Peeta felt inexplicably nervous. "Does this mean you think I'm good looking?" Cato murmured, looking genuinely curious.

He had half expected the boy to deny it, but he didn't. "That isn't the point," Peeta replied instead, fighting off his blush. "C'mon, get that thing back off."

"Someone's a little overeager," Cato smirked, tugging the material back over his head then tossing it aside carelessly. It landed in the dirt several paces away. "I'm not the only one with a top that can come off, though." Reaching out, his fingers caught the hem of the other boy's shirt. "They'll love it even more if it's both of us, right?"

"What? No!" Peeta's eyes widened as he frantically tried to beat the boy's hands away. That wasn't part of his plan at all. "Hey, don't do that," he practically squeaked when Cato began to lift his shirt, revealing the flat stomach underneath. "They won't want to look at me!"

"Oh, I beg to differ." The other grinned back at him, yanking the material higher. "Arms up, Mellark," he instructed as the tips of his fingers skimmed across bare flesh, tracing a burning hot path into Peeta's skin. Ignoring him, the boy just shook his head rapidly, still spluttering protests. Cato rolled his eyes. "Shut up. You're not getting out of this. Now, we can either do this the easy way or the hard way."

"What's the hard way?" Peeta shot back, challenging.

Cato smiled back sweetly. "I'll rip your shirt right off you." At this, he gave the material an experimental tug, assessing how strong it was. Not very, he quickly concluded. "I'll tear it to pieces and then you'll have to wander around shirtless for the rest of this damn competition."

"Make me walk around topless until I die?" Peeta pretended to be scandalized, not noticing the way the other boy flinched at these words. "No way, you wouldn't do that to me."

"Oh yeah?" Cato quirked an eyebrow up at him. "Watch me." This time he pulled at the material in earnest, not stopping until he heard a satisfying rip that left a large tear running across Peeta's chest. The other boy sighed, irritated.

"Alright, alright. You win." He huffed, then lifted his arms just enough that Cato could remove his shirt entirely. "You weren't meant to actually rip it though, you idiot."

"Sorry, I get a bit carried away sometimes, I guess." The boy smiled sheepishly, and Peeta watched as he let the t-shirt drop to the ground at their feet. Only then did he realise just how close to two of them were standing, chests bare, the toes of their boots practically touching.

Wondering if he should take a step back before it got too awkward, he glanced up at Cato, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Of course, he was pretty surprised to find that the boy's piercing blue gaze was wandering intently across his chest and stomach. First his eyes traced the ridges of Peeta's shallow abs, and then his hands did.

He jerked back, trying to get away from the touch because it felt too soft, too comforting and way too intimate. He hadn't been expecting it. Just seconds later, the other's hands came to rest on the sharp dips of his hips, holding him firmly in place. "Don't." Cato said quietly, shaking his head. "Don't do that."

"Cato," he breathed. It sounded like a warning. "Cato, stop."

The boy blinked, his steady stare slowly travelling up to meet the other. His face was closer than before, eyes more intense and glowing a million different shades of clear crystal blue. They flickered down, traced the gentle curve of Peeta's soft pink lips, then up again. Every move he made was so measured and deliberate.

"What are you do–" he tried to ask, but Cato shushed him. The pair were even closer now, so close that their noses bumped gently together. Then one of them (and neither would admit to making the first move if you asked them) tilted their head just slightly and closed the small distance between them. Lips met, warm and willing.

Slowly, tentatively they moved against each other. It wasn't like before, all those days ago when they had kissed for the first time. Now it was careful. Intentional. The soft pressure of their kiss made it harder for Peeta to think, and his arms curled their way around Cato's neck without his permission – he'd meant to push the other boy away, but only ended up pulling him in closer.

Humming his approval, Cato's tight grip on the boy's hips loosened so that his hands could wander lightly across soft skin and sharp bones, making him squirm. Peeta grew increasingly clumsy and nervous as their kiss deepened, tense and rigid until the other boy whispered to him that he should relax, that it was okay. It was okay.

Then came the soft beeping sound from above, a familiar sound that would have been greeted with relief and elation at any other point in this arena. Not now, though. Right now it was just ruining the moment.

Cato pulled away a little to glance up at it and Peeta, who had been so determined to end their kiss before, mewled pathetically at the loss of contact before he could stop himself. The other boy grinned at him, then at the parachute that dangled precariously from a tree branch a couple of metres away from where the pair stood. It was a gift from their sponsors.

Frowning at this (and partially at the fact that Cato had just darted away from him to collect their latest donation), Peeta puzzled over why anyone in the Capitol would choose to send them help at this particular moment. They didn't need help. They already had warm shelter, water close at hand and about half a deer's worth of meat left to combat their hunger. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing else they needed.

Returning to his side, Cato cracked open the small silver box he held between his palms to reveal some sort of cake… thing. It was iced pink and molded into the shape of a heart. Peeta blinked at it, then blushed. Beside him, the other boy laughed.

"I think they like it when we kiss," he informed his friend before smacking a wet kiss to the boy's cheek. "Maybe we should make a habit of it." He cocked his head to the side, shooting a playful wink over Peeta's shoulder towards the camera that was, no doubt, focused on them.

"Maybe we shouldn't." Hurt, Peeta shoved the other away with a fierce glare. This wasn't just some thing they were putting on for the cameras. At least, it wasn't to him, and if that's all it was to Cato then he should've at least had the decency to explain that before he went ahead and kissed him. Before things got so complicated and confusing.

"What?" Cato looked suitably surprised at this. "Hey, no. Don't get mad at me, I didn't mean it like that. Can you at least try to stop taking things the wrong way?" His arm came back up to clutch at Peeta's waist again, holding him close like he was afraid that he would lose him.

Mainly because he was still somewhat in shock and more than a little confused, Peeta snarled back at him that really, there was no other way he could've taken it. The comment hadn't exactly been cryptic. Shaking himself free of Cato's grasp, he stomped off into the cave and hoped that the other had enough sense not to follow him.

Bemused, Cato shook his head and tried to figure out exactly what had just happened. Peeta, he decided after a few moments of deliberation, was either really fucking weird or bipolar. He stuck around when Cato insulted and belittled him, came back no matter how far he tried to throw him, flat-out refused to be shaken off but the one time Cato tries to be nice to him, to show him that he actually cares about him, he gets annoyed and storms off.

Really fucking weird.

* * *

He'd had about an hour to cool off before Cato came crawling through the mouth of the cave, eyes gentle and hair messy. "Hey," he called out to Peeta, who sat upright against one of the jagged walls, not even looking around to acknowledge him. "Oh, so you still aren't done acting like a dick yet? That's just great."

Peeta just frowned deeply (and probably far too intently) at an innocent rock hanging down from the cave's ceiling, resolutely ignoring the other boy. Cato huffed. He wasn't really in the mood for this. Figuring out the best approach was the straightforward one, without his bullshit or bravado, he sat down close beside Peeta. He was just a little too close on purpose, just to see whether the boy would flinch away when their bare arms brushed against each other. For some irrational reason or other, he was still surprised and slightly disappointed when exactly happened. It was like being back to square one.

They were quiet at first, sitting side-by-side without exchanging a single word. Peeta was debating whether or not it would be too childish to shuffle away further, put more distance between them, when suddenly a warm hand came up and cupped itself around his jaw and turned his head, forcing him to meet Cato's eyes.

The older boy was wearing that sincere look of his again, the one that he didn't show for the cameras or the sponsors or the people watching in the Capitol. No, not for them. That look was just for Peeta, and it made him feel uncomfortably warm inside, nervous, like someone had poured searing hot water on his stomach and he was just waiting for the pain to kick in.

"I don't understand you." Cato told him simply. "I don't want to argue, Peeta, not now. I'm sick of that. Just… just tell me what you need me to say to make this better again and I'll say it. Tell me what you want from me so I can fix this."

"Why did you kiss me?" he blurted out, and that wasn't what he meant to say at all. He wished that he could snatch the words back as soon as they left his mouth, retract them from the air around him and choke them down again. Blushing, he tried to look away but Cato's steady hand and close proximity wouldn't let him.

"That's a really stupid question," the other boy replied shortly. He sounded exasperated, annoyed and maybe just the tiniest bit affectionate. "I kissed you because I wanted to."

"Oh," Peeta started. "I thought—"

"I know what you thought." Cato interrupted. "I just don't know why you thought it." Then he leaned in again and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of Peeta's mouth. The small frown on the boy's lips instantly faded nothing. "Let's get some sleep, yeah?"

"Yeah." That idea sounded appealing enough to Peeta, so he nodded his agreement. Then he remembered with a jolt that they were fighting to the death in this arena, not a pair of boy scouts on camping trip. It wouldn't be safe for them to just sleep here. "Should I stay up and take watch, or…?"

"No, I think we're okay. If anyone else knew where the cave was, I'm pretty sure they'd be sleeping in it. We're safe here." Wrapping a warm hand around Peeta's wrist, Cato pulled the boy over to where their one singular sleeping bag was spread out. He wriggled his way under the thick material, hissing as a particularly sharp rock jabbed him in the back. Then he turned to look back at the other expectantly. "C'mon, let's get some sleep."

Chewing his lip indecisively, Peeta only hesitated for a few seconds before deciding that there was really no use in pretending lthat he didn't want to share the sleeping bag and joining Cato. The other boy's arm was back around his waist in an instant, like it belonged there, the other arm reaching up to act as a pillow beneath his head. There were a few quiet moments, both waiting with bated breath for the other to snap back to reality, to realise just what they were doing and push them away. It never happened.

Instead, Cato inched that little bit closer, his hand settling comfortably across the small curve of Peeta's lower abdomen. He shuffled slightly, enough so that his heartbeat, solid and steady, now thumped gently against the smooth skin of the other boy's back. Another subtle shift and his chin hooked had its way over a shoulder blade, each soft exhale as he breathed spilling out across Peeta's cheek.

Grateful that he had his back turned to the other boy, Peeta couldn't help but smile at the way Cato handled him so carefully, like he was as fragile as glass. Like he would shatter and fall apart any second.

It could have been a minute until he fell asleep. It could have been an hour. He wasn't sure. All he was aware of was the warmth, the comfort that came with lying in someone else's arms. For the first time since they'd entered the arena, Peeta felt safe.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello everyone and, as ever, thank you all for reading! Sorry it's been so long since we updated, we're (still) super busy with exams and we (somewhat moronically) decided to start writing another story, too. We're aiming to update both of them once a week, which is about as often as we can manage right now. If you can find the time, please leave us reviews to let us know what you think. We love hearing from you, and feedback makes writing this so much more fun! Have a nice week, and hopefully we'll see you again soon.


	13. Chapter 13

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 13**

* * *

It was almost midday when Peeta stirred, cracking an eye open briefly and humming in satisfaction at the fact he was still surrounded by at least partial darkness. Not too much light had managed to spill into the cave from outside, meaning that he could continue to snooze happily under the pretense that it was not actually daytime therefore he did not need to be awake.

Usually in the arena the Tributes had no choice but to be up, alert and moving as soon as dawn broke: the artificial light of morning there was too bright to ignore completely, too piercing to sleep through and too dangerous to be caught in. Tucked away under the cool shade of the cave, however, this was no longer the case.

Peeta rolled over and buried himself further in the soft warmness that surrounded him, face nuzzling sleepily against something smooth and strangely angular. A collarbone, maybe? It was nice. Comfortable even. He hadn't slept this much in forever. Back in Twelve, he never had the privilege of a lie in like this. His whole being felt rested, replenished and ready to go. Well, almost ready – just five more minutes of sleep and he'd be sorted.

Just as his body was beginning to shut down itself again, something prodded him gently in the cheek. He growled in irritation at the disturbance. Sleep. He needed it. Anyone who got in his way should prepare to face a gruesome death, or something equally threatening to that effect.

A low chuckle came from somewhere near his ear and he lazily blinked a bleary eye open once more to meet a pair of soft blue ones. "Morning," Cato whispered, then surged forward to drop a clumsy kiss to Peeta's lips. It was wet, sleepy and messy, overall unremarkable and over far too soon for his liking.

Peeta whined pathetically when Cato pulled away because that had been nice and warm and his brain wasn't yet functioning at a level that was above basic human desires. His mouth opened to demand the other boy came back to kiss him again but his somewhat addled mind got the words jumbled up on the tip of his tongue. "Were you watching me sleep?" he asked instead. He could almost feel Cato's blush as it spread through his body, fiery hot and burning as he shook his head. Denial.

"What? No!" the boy insisted, trying to shuffle away. His escape plan was unsuccessful, though, due to the fact he had well over one hundred pounds worth of Peeta sprawled out heavily across his chest.

"Oh god, did I ruin our cute morning-after moment? I did, didn't I? Fuck." Groaning melodramatically he buried his face in the crook of Cato's neck. "Let's have a do-over," he mumbled, pressing his suggestion into the bare skin there. "I'll just pretend to be asleep and we can just try that whole thing again."

One of Cato's arms was still wrapped possessively around the other boy's waist, holding him firmly in place. The other shifted upwards to tangle gently in Peeta's hair. "You don't get a do over, you idiot."

"But I want to be cute with you." Peeta pouted. He actually pouted. "Let's be cute. C'mon, we could be cute together."

"Sorry, you missed your shot," Cato teased lightly as he disentangled his own limbs from the jumble of others in spite of Peeta's muttered protests. "Besides that, you're about as cute as Thresh in a ballet skirt, Mellark."

"So you think I'm pretty cute, then?" Peeta grinned, pressing a feather light kiss to Cato's neck. "That's sweet. I didn't know you have a thing for Thresh, though. Or ballet skirts, for that matter."

"Shut up, that wasn't what I meant." Cato replied, his tone incredulous. "You know full well that I don't have a thing for Thresh," he continued without even bothering to deny the former accusation, simply because that would be a blatant lie. Peeta was very cute, especially in the morning when he was all bleary-eyed and clingy like this. Cato wasn't going to actually admit that out loud to anyone, though.

"Yeah, whatever." Rolling to the side, Peeta stretched out across the floor like a cat, willing his muscles back to life. For once he didn't have to snap all his joints back into place – maybe he'd have to make a habit out of using Cato as a human mattress. "What are we doing today?"

"I don't know. We could go hunting, I guess?" the other boy shrugged. It's not like there was anything else to do in the arena.

"Alright," Peeta agreed, but only because he didn't have any better ideas. "I'll go out and get our shirts and collect some wood for a fire. Let's finish off the last of the deer for breakfast before we head out of here."

"Sounds good." Cato smiled, and then dropped a quick kiss to the tip of Peeta's nose. "Man with a plan. I like that. I'll pack our stuff up so we can leave as soon as we've eaten."

Grateful for the chance to get some fresh air, to clear his head and wake himself up properly before he did something really, really stupid, Peeta hurried out of the cave with nothing more than a smile and a small wave in Cato's direction. The other boy watched him go, biting down the warnings of 'be safe' and 'come back' and 'don't leave me' that threatened to spill out after his retreating back.

* * *

To put it plainly, hunting got boring fast – really fast. After a few days in the arena it kind of lost it's glamour and became somewhat tedious. Today it was even worse than usual because they'd both already eaten and neither of them was all that hungry. Their only true incentive to do it was their boredom but even then, a full stomach weakened the appeal of chasing rabbits around under the scorching hot sun.

They were both out of breath, panting and sweating when they decided to call it a day. They had killed six rabbits in just an hour. Both of them knew there was no way they could even eat that many. It felt too much like they were hilling for the sake of killing. Killing for fun. It made Peeta feel slightly sick as he rounded up the rabbits by their ears and wiped his bloodied dagger clean on the grass at his feet.

"What do we do now?" he asked Cato, wishing he had a hand free to wipe the dripping beads of sweat away from his forehead.

The other boy shrugged. "I'm gonna go for a swim in the river, cool off a little and stuff. Care to join me?" He said the words casually. Too casually. Since they left the cave, they had gone back to their old routine of sniping at each other over every little thing and squabbling as they walked. Peeta had no idea where he stood.

He felt his cheeks grow hot as he imagined the two of them in the river together – alone in the river together. He didn't know what would happen, so he shook his head. Not after yesterday. It was too confusing. "I'm okay, thanks. You go ahead, I'll just head back to camp and skin the rabbits or something."

Cato raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully, probably because Peeta was still absolutely awful at skinning rabbits. "Are you sure?" he asked, but for some reason it sounded more like 'are you avoiding me?'

Shrugging back at him, Peeta didn't answer his question because he didn't really know how he was supposed to. Cato sighed, shook his head. "You're no fun," he said bluntly. "I'll see you back at the cave in a little while, alright? If I'm not back in an hour, assume I'm either halfway dead or dying slowly."

"That's really not funny," the other boy replied in an irritated tone, but he couldn't help the smile that quirked up the corners of his lips in spite of himself. "Make sure you keep your sword with you at all times and don't even think about dying on me, okay?"

"Straight back at you," Cato replied with a nod. "Don't go doing anything I wouldn't."

Peeta laughed at him and then rolled his eyes. "Right, of course, because you're the epitome of sensible behaviour and good conduct."

"Exactly," Cato deadpanned and, apparently not detecting the heavy sarcasm or, as was more likely, refusing to acknowledge it, he grinned proudly like he'd just been praised. "Just be careful, Peeta. I'd miss you if you died."

"I will be," the boy promised back earnestly. Then there was a moment where Cato stepped forward, closer to him, like he was going to kiss him or something. He didn't, though, just extended a hand and lightly traced the curve of Peeta's cheek before turning to leave.

Watching him go, Peeta could have sworn their goodbyes were usually shorter, less final sounding and far less laden with anxiety. Something about it made him nervous and left an ugly nauseous feeling twisting around in his gut that tightened painfully at the thought of never seeing the other boy again.

The rabbits were heavy in his hands, but his heart was heavier in his chest as he trudged back to the cave – their cave. It felt empty and soulless here when he was alone. Sweat still dripped down his brow, painfully slow. Dropping the rabbits carelessly to the floor, he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

All the while, he couldn't shake the sick feeling in his stomach. He couldn't.

* * *

Predictably, he'd botched skinning the rabbits. It was a grotesque sight, like stepping into a little bunny warzone. Guts and bloody innards were strewn about the floor of the cave. Peeta had, admittedly, taken his nerves and anxiety out on the poor creatures in the hopes that it would be therapeutic and help to calm him down. Now he regretted it.

As it turned out, the brutal skinning, gutting and mutilating only served to make him even more of a mess than before, both emotionally and physically. Biting his lip, he decided to at least attempt to clear up before Cato got back. The other boy would either laugh at him or be annoyed if he saw this. Peeta didn't know which it would be, nor did he particularly care to find out.

Scraping warm organs from the cool rocks they had splattered on, he glanced up every now and again to survey the area around the cave that was visible through its narrow mouth. He wasn't sure how long had passed since he had returned, but it had to be somewhere around the hour mark and he was growing increasingly worried. Of course he was.

Cato's light-hearted words from earlier resounded like an echo, playing out in his head over and over: either halfway dead or dying slowly. The boy wasn't back yet and it was perfectly plausible. Peeta shuddered, trying to force his thoughts aside without much success. It was difficult to think of anything cheerful in the arena anyway, especially when surrounded by nothing but chunks of rotting flesh.

Outside, there was a rustling from the trees, barely audible but definitely there. A spark of hope – and maybe just a little relief – ignited in his chest and burned through his veins like an adrenaline rush. Quickly wiping his hands clean on his trousers he fumbled his way upright and all but sprinted out of the cave.

"Cato?" he called out into the empty clearing. "Cato, is that you?"

There was no answer, just more rustling from the bushes. He crept closer, intrigued, and then cursed himself for his stupidity. The noises were too quiet to be Cato, which could only mean that he was approaching an enemy unarmed. Freezing in place, his pride wouldn't allow him to run away like a coward when everyone in the Captiol was probably watching him. He just prayed that whoever it was hadn't heard him calling out, hoped that they wouldn't come out and attack him.

Of course, he had no such luck. The sounds of leaves and branches being pushed aside and twigs breaking underfoot grew closer. Peeta bit his lip, stepped back and raised his fists in the hopes that he'd be able to knock his opponent out before they actually opposed him. It was a long shot, but he was strong enough that it was worth a chance.

Then a bright red head, wide eyes and pale face poked out of the bushes. Foxface. He didn't know why he was so surprised – after all, it could only have been her or Thresh, and she was by far the more likely option judging by the daintiness of the footsteps. Something made him pause, hesitate. Maybe it was some reservations about flat out punching a girl in the face that he didn't even know he had coming into play.

He thought about Effie, how she'd shake her head at him and hiss 'manners!' sharply under her breath at the screen if he went through with it. Just like that, his fists lowered back down to his sides and he took a step back.

Foxface watched him with an eyebrow raised, her pinched up features twisting into a hybrid between a half-smile and some sort of frown. As creepy as that expression was, he knew then that he couldn't kill her with his bare hands. It would be too messy, too barbaric, too much of a struggle. He could just picture it now, how her face, that awful face contorted in pain would haunt his memories. Even the thought of it was enough to turn his stomach.

He couldn't do it.

Instead, he offered her a grimace of his own in return for her… whatever that was meant to be, and tried to recall exactly where he'd thrown his dagger after he finished mutilating the rabbits. From what he could remember, it was on the floor of the cave somewhere towards the back, which left him with pretty much no choice: he'd have to trick her, entice her into their camp and then kill her.

"Uh," he said as eloquently as ever, struggling to remember her real name. He was fairly sure that calling her Foxface wouldn't go down too well. "Hi there?"

"Hello, Peeta," she said. Her voice was different than he remembered, lower and more sultry. He quickly concluded from this that she'd probably been practicing the art of seduction since they last spoke. Weirdo. Shimmying out of the undergrowth, she planted himself in front of him and cocked her head to one side in a manner that she probably thought looked cute. How wrong she was. "Aren't you going to try and kill me?"

"Of course not," Peeta lied and then laughed awkwardly, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to look casual. Play it cool. "How could I kill a girl as beautiful as you?"

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she laughed too. "Well, aren't you charming today," she commented with a wink then took a step forward. She looked him up and down once, twice, and then nodded in approval before her eyes went narrow and calculating. "Why were you calling out for Cato just now?"

"He's sort of my ally, I guess," Peeta replied honestly.

"You're still allies this late in the competition?" she shot back, tone disbelieving. He blushed a little and then nodded. "That's really weird. He's a Career, after all. I'm surprised he hasn't turned on you already."

"I'm pretty surprised too," he replied more flatly than he'd intended, struggling to refrain himself from springing to the other boy's defense. Peeta took a deep, steadying breath and then another. It's not like she knew what she's talking about, anyway. Of course she didn't – she barely even knew Cato.

"You should have picked your allies a bit more wisely." Foxface smirked. "Maybe then you wouldn't be stuck with the wrong sort."

The whole conversation was unnerving him. The girl appeared to be unarmed, and even if she wasn't he was certain he could fight off any attacks she made, yet something about talking to her set him on edge more than her running at him with a knife would. That he knew how to handle. This, on the other hand, was completely foreign to him.

Every word they spoke seemed too much like a casual conversation between two people who knew of each other vaguely well, not two people destined to kill one another. Too normal for this arena where everything came down to a matter of their life or death.

"Maybe I didn't consider my options thoroughly enough," he countered in what he hoped was a flirty tone, forcing his focus back into the present, telling himself that now was not the time be complacent. "If we'd teamed up from the start, things might be different. Then again, I don't think I could handle having an ally I'm so very attracted to. I'm sure it would be far too distracting for me to get anything done."

The insincerity of his words left him cringing, but somehow Foxface seemed convinced as she nodded and then took a step towards him, closed the gap between them. Her hands wrapped firmly around his shoulders, sharp nailed fingers clawing at the muscles there as she rose up onto her tip-toes and edged closer, closer —

"I think we should take this somewhere a little more private," Peeta suggested, jerking away from her grasp just before her lips touched down on his own. She pouted at this, and it was mildly repulsive.

"That's stupid. Nothing in this arena is private, Peeta," she reminded him, and then lunged forwards once more. This time she only missed her target narrowly as he turned away, lips catching his cheek and sliding wetly across it. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded hotly, pulling back to glare at him.

He paused, trying to think of a good excuse. "I… uh. I think we're going too fast?"

"We're in an arena where we could die at any given moment and you think that we're going too fast?" she repeated skeptically. When she put it like that, it did sound pretty stupid. "I thought that you want this."

"Trust me, I do," he reassured, although his skin was literally crawling where she'd touched it, sending shivers of disgust down his spine and raising bile in his throat. Swallowing it down quickly, he tried to smile at her in an appropriately bashful and shy manner. "I'm just nervous because this is uh, my first time doing this."

"Oh, so you really are a virgin?" Her expression melted from angry rage to something softer, more sympathetic and pitying in just seconds. "I had a feeling you might be from the moment I first met you. You give off such an innocent vibe."

Not knowing whether to be insulted or not, Peeta almost wanted to tell her that remembered the moment he met her and how he had known right away that she was a weirdo – she just gave off this really creepy and ominous vibe, like the kind of person who would crawl into bed with someone and molest them in their sleep. He wouldn't put it past her.

"If we go into the cave I'm sure I'd feel more relaxed," he told her with a hopeful smile.

Foxface looked over at the cave, then back to Peeta, quickly assessing the distance between them. "At least kiss me now," she demanded. "I need to know that this is going to be worth my time."

"I can't," Peeta insisted as she leaned in again. "I'm too nervous."

Horrified by her closeness, he shook his head and darted out of her reach once more. This would have been so much easier if he'd just throttled her as soon as he saw or something. Anything.

"Whatever." Rolling her eyes, she released him from her clutches and shuffled away, darting back into the bushes. He watched her go, somewhat relieved that she'd lost interest and just left even if he hadn't managed to kill her. It wasn't quite what he'd pictured for their next meeting, but he comforted himself that at least she hadn't kissed him properly.

Wiping her saliva trail from his damp cheek, he turned to head back to the cave. He'd retrieve his dagger and then when Cato returned they could go after her together or something. Just as he thought he was out of the woods, home and dry, safe at last and so on, the girl reemerged from the forest proudly brandishing a handful of berries.

"I passed these on my way over here." She told him with a grin. "You should eat them, they'll make you feel better."

"What are they?" he asked as he peered down at her hand and inspected them closely. They appeared to be Nightlock, the deadly wild berries that sprouted up in the wilderness outside his District.

"They're called Frightstop." Foxface looked smug, apparently pleased she knew something he didn't. "They're used in minor operations to calm nerves and anesthetize patients."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, and the girl nodded back confidently. At least she was self-assured. He bit his lip. "How do I know that you're right?"

"Of course I'm right." She scoffed, flipping her hair over one shoulder and cocking a hip to the side. "Don't you know that I got the highest score in plant detection?"

He hadn't known that – he never bothered to learn, assuming that she would be dead straight off the podium, that she wouldn't even be a contender at the end. Now look at her, still as alive and annoying as ever. Still, he wasn't convinced. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he began to believe that he was right and she was not.

Although he was no expert in agriculture, he remembered seeing those berries at the back of the bakery where a bramble bush had wound its way up the high-wired fence. Back when he was a little boy, he'd stupidly attempted to eat one of them. His mother had slapped him hard before he even came close, shouting ferociously that if they had even touched his lips, he'd have been dead in a minute. He never touched them again.

Foxface was growing impatient, shaking her outstretched palm in his direction. The berries rolled about in it. They looked deadly. He grinned at her, an idea blossoming in his mind.

"Fine, then. How do I know you aren't trying to trick me into eating poison? If you're so good with plants, you could easily fool me into eating something lethal." He smirked at her, challenging.

She took the bait. "Would it make you feel better if I ate some first?" she cooed. "I'm not nervous, but they wont have any negative effects on me. Just you watch."

Raising her cupped hand to her chapped lips, she tilted it so several berries rolled off her palm and into her open mouth. Swallowing them down, Foxface smiled triumphantly. "There!" she exclaimed, obviously satisfied. "Like I said, I'm still alive and breathing."

"Give it a minute," the boy said back, pretending to be defeated. "I just need to be sure."

Foxface shrugged carelessly, as if she were only humouring him by waiting. Her face went red and she didn't even notice. She coughed violently then straightened up, brushing it off as nothing. The second time this happened, her eyes went wide and panicked.

"Peeta," she rasped desperately, and then coughed again. "Peeta, get me some water! I th-think there's something s-stuck in my throat." Clutching at her stomach, she keeled over. Her breathing became laboured and her body contorted with the strain of trying to pull air into her lungs, to keep herself alive.

Motionless and watching her struggle, Peeta counted down the seconds she had remaining in his head. Ten, nine, eight, seven… he felt almost bad. If he had killed her himself, at least it would have been a quicker death, less of a struggle for her.

She gasped one more breath at three. Her body stilled at two. The cannon sounded at one. Just like that, Foxface was dead. Now there were only three of them.

* * *

Sitting around staring at her dead body was making him nervous so Peeta dragged it into the bushes and left it there for the Capitol to come collect. Heading back to the cave, he couldn't help but wonder why the other boy still wasn't back. It had been well over an hour now, and the shadows cast across the floor by the sun were beginning to bend and curve the other way.

Tucking both his dagger and his smaller knife into his pocket, he decided that going out to search for Cato would be the most productive option. As far as he was concerned, there was no point at all in him sitting around here and worrying himself half-to-death while he waited for the other boy.

Just as he emerged from the cave, the boy in question barreled out through the trees looking absolutely livid. He was panting, out of breath, shirtless and shoeless, dripping wet and clad in nothing but his pair of trousers. In one hand he carried his sword, blade facing the ground, and his boots strung together by their laces. In the other he clutched at a bundled up ball of messy clothes that had obviously been collected together in a hurry.

As soon as he saw Peeta, his grip on them went lax with relief and everything he was holding tumbled down to the floor. The sharp metal of his weapon missed his feet by mere inches, but he didn't even seem to notice. Cato was at his side in an instant; still slightly frantic, he poked and prodded at the other boy like he had to make sure he was really there.

"I heard the cannon," he explained, waving an arm through the air haphazardly to convey his distress at this. "I thought you'd died, I thought… God, I was so worried."

"No, that was Foxface. It's kind of a long story but besides that, where the hell have do you think you've been?" Peeta snapped back, talking over the boy's babbling. "I was waiting for you for ages and you didn't even show. Do you have any idea how much you scared me?"

Looking suitably guilty, Cato cast his eyes downwards. "I'm sorry," he muttered softly. "It was… I was being stupid. I shouldn't have just left you here on your own like that." Stepping closer to Peeta, he flattened a palm against his chest, felt the steady thump of the other boy's heartbeat against his hand.

"Damn right you shouldn't have." Deeply annoyed, Peeta brushed the hand off him, pointedly ignoring the kicked puppy dog expression that crossed the boy's face. "If you're so sorry, tell me what the hell you were doing that took two fucking hours."

"Swimming," Cato replied smoothly. He was fast – too fast.

"Oh right. Sure you were," the other boy bit back sarcastically. "You scared me out of my mind for no good reason so you could spend two hours lounging around the river, did you?"

"No! It wasn't like th…" he started to say, then trailed off when he realised his mistake. "I mean, uh. Yes, and I'm very sorry? Like I said, it was really stupid. I'm sorry, Peeta."

Rubbing a hand across his temple, the younger boy sighed. "Stop lying to me."

"I'm sorry," Cato replied instantly. It was almost funny. Only a week ago, Peeta would have had to claw an apology out of him. Now he gave them out liberally. "I was just looking for Thresh. I thought maybe if I picked him off on my own I could keep you out of danger or something. It was so stupid. I heard the cannon and I just… I didn't know what to do. If you died… Fuck. I can't. I don't know what I'm going to do, Peeta."

His words became choked and strangled at the end, like he had to force them out. It was only then that Peeta noticed how he was shaking violently, his hands twitching nervously at his sides like they needed something to hold on to for stability again.

"You really are stupid sometimes," Peeta replied, shaking his head. He couldn't quite keep the soft fondness out of his voice. "You don't need to protect me from anything. I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know," Cato mumbled back. "I'm sorry."

Smacking him lightly in the chest, Peeta rolled his eyes and laughed. "Stop saying that so much. It loses its worth if you use it every five seconds."

"Oh, right. Sorry." He made a face as soon as the word left his mouth, obviously annoyed with himself. "We don't really do the whole apology thing too much in my district," he said by way of explanation. "I haven't had much practice."

"It's okay," Peeta replied. "We're okay." Reaching out, he took hold of Cato's hands and squeezed them tightly. After a moment, the other boy squeezed back and they exchanged a small smile. "You're still stupid, you know," he added a few seconds later, and Cato laughed.

"Yeah, I know." He grinned and just like that, everything was back to normal. "Let's go and find him together or something, yeah? Team work and all that crap."

"Yeah, alright." Nodding, Peeta let go of his hands and helped to round up his clothes. They were still a team, then. Even now, down to the last three, they were still a team. He felt a surge of something in his chest – pride, maybe? Whatever.

Either way, he'd known that Foxface was wrong about Cato.

He smiled to himself as the older boy laced his boots into two clumsy bows, and didn't let himself think too hard about the fact that there was only one Tribute left before the pair of them were enemies, direct opponents who would be fighting against each other. No. It was too painful.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello, hello everybody! As always, thank you for reading and if you have time, please leave a review and let us know what you think. We'd love you for it - any and all feedback is very much appreciated. You'll probably be pleased to know that our exams are nearly over and we have the bulk of the next chapter already written so it shouldn't be too long before our next update! Thank you all for your patience and for sticking about with us. PS, if you're bored we have a few other Peeta/Cato stories floating about, you should check those out too, heh heh. Have a nice week and hopefully we'll see you around soon!


	14. Chapter 14

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 14**

* * *

Peeta was sure that they hadn't been out searching for Thresh for long, but the forests around them had grown prematurely dark in the short time they had been away from the cave. From the soft light of late afternoon, the sky had plundered its way into almost complete darkness in the space of what couldn't be more than an hour.

"Hey, what time do you think it is?" Cato asked as he looked around curiously, breaking the long but comfortable silence between the two of them. Time, much like just about everything else in the Games, was easy to loose track of.

"I'm not sure," the other boy replied, glancing up at the dark sky and then shrugging. Usually the position of the sun was their only indication of hours passing by, the only way of knowing the time in the arena. "We've not been out here for long, though. We can't have been."

"Something's not right," Cato concluded. They both knew it shouldn't have gotten dark so quickly – from burning sunlight that almost blinded the boys, transformed in what felt like the blink of an eye into a pitch-black sky, lit only by the bright glow of the moon. High up the cloudless sky, it gave off nearly the same amount of light as the sun did, reflecting it back in silvery beams.

There was something far more ominous about the ghostly light it provided, though, and the way it caught on the shadows of the trees and the gnarled fingers of their winding branches. It was setting them both on edge. Peeta pulled out his knife at the same time that Cato drew his sword higher up, its sharp blade raised a little more defensively than before.

One thing was for certain – this sudden darkness couldn't be natural and, with the Gamemakers in control, it couldn't be accidental either. Everything about the competition was too precise, far too calculated for that.

Peeta frowned. "They must be in a hurry..." he let his sentence drift off uneasily, biting his lip. Both boys knew exactly what the unspoken words meant, anyway. The Capitol was getting bored. They wanted their victor. One more tribute to go and then they'd be against each other.

"They must have wanted to put us at a disadvantage," Cato announced knowingly. Peeta cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering how the boy had managed to reach that conclusion. "It's obvious, isn't it? It's the two of us against Thresh, so they've tried to even out the odds by making it night time."

"How does that affect the odds?" Peeta replied, somewhat baffled.

The other boy shot him a loaded look that said he was missing something very obvious. "Thresh is black," Cato explained very slowly, like he was talking to a small child, and then gestured around him with his free arm. "He blends in better."

"What do you mean, he blends in… Oh." Peeta blinked, took a moment to process what the other boy had said, then blinked again. "Cato! You can't just say that!"

"Yes I can." Cato smirked back at him, chin tilted up in defiance. "Besides, I wasn't going to actually say it, but then you made me. It's not my fault you're so slow on the uptake?"

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. Cato laughed loudly at the unimpressed look on his face, the sound reverberating through the trees like an echo trapped in thin air. "Hey, shut up," Peeta said suddenly, grabbing the boy's wrist in his hand to still his footsteps.

Maybe on another day, at another time when their lives weren't so endangered, Cato would have brushed him off and ignored him. Perhaps he would have even then, if not for the low tone of urgency in the boy's voice, one that made him snap his mouth closed without question. Then he heard it. A rustle from the trees made them both spin around, two pairs of eyes flitting about the shadows in search of its source.

"Who's there? Come out and face us!" Cato yelled, lifting his sword up higher, taking it from defensive to offensive in a matter of degrees. Turning, he shifted subtly to ensure that Peeta's body was hidden away behind his own, tucked out of sight and guarded by the best form of protection he could provide – himself.

Despite his confident stance, his wide eyes gave away the sheer panic he was feeling. Peeta studied his face cautiously. He looked a bit insane again, just like he had when their supplies were blown up. Like he was about to freak out and start yelling at any moment. He couldn't have that.

Darting out from behind him, Peeta held a hand out to silence Cato's protests of 'danger' and 'get back here' before edging closer to the trees that the noise came from, knife outstretched in preparation. He stayed there for a few minutes, poised to attack, but nothing happened. He swivelled round to the other boy to shrug the whole incident off and maybe exchange a quick smile of relief, but then a piercing howl filled the air.

They both surveyed the area, confused. The sound seemed to come from all directions, as if it were a part of the very air they were breathing. Glancing around them quickly, they then twirled slowly around on the spot, edging closer together as they did so. Peeta wondered if they looked as nervous as he felt, and whether their terrified faces were being projected out on screens everywhere.

Probably. He'd bet that everyone back in the Capitol was watching with baited breath, nervous and excited as they waited for something to happen, like in bad horror films with the signature build up, dramatic music and the slow reach for the door handle. Everyone knows what's coming yet somehow they still don't expect it when the door flies open and a monster bursts out.

Peeta had just begun to chuckle nervously when a large growl erupted from directly behind him. Like the sucker he was, he jumped about a foot in the air and then tried to turn around again to look at it. He was thrown to the floor before he could, too slow to see it. A hot, heavy and hairy body covered his own, so close that it was suffocating. It seemed to be some sort of dog like animal, but Peeta wasn't sure.

"Cato, get out of here. Run!" He shouted, wrestling his head out from under the creature so he could see the other boy. Hesitating, he glanced between the animal and Peeta and then the trees around them uncertainly, like he wanted to help and run away all at once.

The younger boy growled at him, low and irritated. He could handle this thing easily, and he told him just that. Besides, there could be more of them coming. Of course there would be. Why would the Capitol stop at one? Cato needed to get away fast. Peeta would follow.

"I'll follow behind you," he panted, reassuring. Cato lingered for a moment, one sickening and heart stopping and idiotically stupid and risky moment, and then he nodded in assent and began to sprint away, expecting Peeta to be close to hand. And he would be, Peeta thought. It was just a dog.

He shifted his hand where it was cramped up next to him, tightening his grip on his knife. Kicking his attacker away from him, he grinned a little at the pained yowl it let out. Scrambling to his feet, this time he was ready when the creature threw itself towards him and he caught it fast in a headlock, knife wielded close at its temples. It snapped its razor-like teeth, growling angrily as it struggled to get away. Peeta was stronger, though, and he held onto it tightly, trying to find the exact right spot to stab it so that it would die in an instant. Jugular, he decided, or a well-aimed blow to the stomach.

Admittedly, this was a little stupid, considering it was a live animal and it wanted to kill him. He should have just stabbed it anywhere he could reach and run the hell away, but Peeta wasn't really thinking straight. The arena had taught him to kill precisely and to kill thoroughly. No one could blame him for it.

Up close, he studied the thing and began to see it for what it was at face value, a snarling entity that was obviously not natural, too large to be a dog - an odd shape, pointed at unusual angles and more threatening than any animal he'd ever seen before. It was clearly a mutt. He'd seen these before, in other years and other arenas: Capitol-made monsters that had elements of real animals but also horrible and twisted sides of their own.

Mutts used to be a regular feature in the Hunger Games, but they hadn't been around much since they'd wiped out ten tributes in one day just over a decade ago. It had been decided then that they were too deadly, too savage for the early stages of the competition. Now they tended to save them for last, the big guns to wheel out and knock over any man left standing.

The thing growled again, writhing violently in his arms. Peeta could feel every muscle in its lean body flex, preparing itself to throw him off. It was definitely a mutt, one with long, dark brown fur and grey, haunting eyes that made Peeta feel uneasy for a reason he couldn't quite fathom. He stumbled back, recoiling like he'd just been dealt a blow to his gut. The mutt advanced threateningly, and the boy couldn't bear to look away, let alone tell his muscles to move, to escape, and to run away as fast as he could.

He hit the floor hard, one palm splayed out in the dirt to keep him upright, the other still clutching his knife. Jaws wide open, the creature sprang forward. Peeta found himself lying there like a stuffed dummy just waiting to be attacked. He didn't even dodge away, didn't resist as teeth like blades punctured and pierced their way into the muscle on his shoulder, ripping it open.

Shaking himself as soon as the pain kicked in, he just about pulled up his blade up enough to stab it into the mutt's stomach. It sank in quickly, embedding itself in thick folds of skin and fur. It wasn't enough. As the knife collided, he knew that it wouldn't be a fatal hit.

Not deep enough. Still, the thing's jaw slackened and it released Peeta from the vice-like grip. Backing off with an angry hiss, the mutt almost glared at him. Peeta was momentarily struck by the way the moonlight glinted off a metal token hanging from its neck. It was engraved with a shiny number twelve.

Twelve. Peeta was confused for a second. Why twelve? Maybe it was because this was the mutt that had been sent out to kill him, he reasoned. That would mean it had a counterpart out hunting Cato. That thought made him feel sick, sick enough to adjust his grip on his blade and brace himself to fight this thing. Then he realised in horror that he was wrong – that wasn't what they meant by the unsubtle token to District 12.

The eyes gave it away – a hunter's grey eyes, straight from the seam. Suddenly it was clear, shockingly clear and all too obvious even if he couldn't bring himself to believe it. It was too ridiculous and stupid all at once, but he was sure that it was still true. How had he not noticed it from the start? The mutt was Katniss.

Peeta recoiled in horror, knife hanging limply in his hand, not able to comprehend the absolute hatred that was glowing in her eyes – were those actually her eyes? – as she lunged for him again, teeth frighteningly white and sharp. But he couldn't bring himself to do anything, not even defend himself, just stared in wide-eyed horror at what the Capitol had done to her.

Before she hit the mark, closed in on him and killed him, which was almost inevitable considering the fact that Peeta wouldn't have been able to stop her, a pained yelp replaced her snarls as she was dragged off him by something above the two of them. Cato. He'd come back. Plunging his sword straight into her stomach, he then hacked a wide slit through her throat. She staggered and then fell. The boy continued thrust his blade into her, again and again, like he didn't believe she was really dead.

Cato was panting when he finally finished with her, his cheeks red and an almost pained look in his eyes. He shot an exasperated look at the smaller boy, one that reminded him of his reassurances that he could handle it and he'd follow behind in a moment. Perhaps he had underestimated the situation a bit. Maybe even a lot.

This was the second time the other boy had killed Katniss for him, Peeta thought, and felt a strange sort of relief mingled with sadness. His heart was still stuttering out an unsteady beat, thumping erratically in his chest. Then Cato was crouching down beside him, his warm palm wrapping around Peeta's good arm.

"Are you okay?" he asked, using a finger to trace lightly over the torn flesh on the boy's shoulder. His voice was softer and way more concerned than it should have been.

Peeta nodded stiffly, forcing his muscles to move with some difficulty. He was fine, just a little shocked and a little damaged. He felt slightly nauseous, sure, but that was nothing. He had grown used to the mixture of adrenaline and panic coursing through his blood after a fight. This time the panic felt different, though. It was a panic that set into his limbs and made them ice cold. He felt like he couldn't move even if he wanted.

"Well get up then, you idiot!" Cato dragged Peeta to his feet, suddenly angry, fingers digging into his skin hard enough that it would be sure to leave bruises. It stung in a way that forced the boy back to the present, made him get more in touch with the real world and what was happening _right now_ while also forcing his limbs to react, to get back in motion.

Back upright and a little unsteady, Peeta tried to lean in close to the other boy, tried to cling onto him for support. Cato shook him off quickly, shoved him away. Pushed him forward. The younger boy didn't seem to understand. He just stared back at him, like he was waiting for his next order, his expression lost and confused and just a tiny bit hurt.

"Snap out of it, Peeta," Cato growled, pushing him again. "Run!"

Reality crashed back down around him and he nodded, forcing his panic down so that it wasn't so stifling. There was no time for that now. Not when it could get both of them killed. So, he ran. He focused on simply making his legs move, one foot in front of another. He resorted to thinking out simple instructions in his head to help him move along, help him try and forget about the pain. It didn't help. He could still feel it, feel the pain throbbing in his right shoulder where he'd been bitten.

He did the only thing he could do – grit his teeth and ignored it, bounding after Cato as quick as his tortured muscles would allow him to. The trees were growing sparser, the forest less dense, and Peeta followed in the boy's path blindly, not even caring where they were going. He trusted Cato. They'd be safe.

Peeta felt like he should be embarrassed that he didn't kill the mutt simply because it reminded him of Katniss, but didn't have time to pursue the thought, probably not even the brain capacity spare to feel anything other than the burn of his limbs and the sting of pulling air into his lungs.

Then the shining gold of the Cornucopia came into sight and as it clicked in his head where Cato had been leading them all this time, and he sighed deeply in relief. See, he wasn't just a pretty face. Clearly the boy had earned himself that eleven for a reason, Peeta thought. He almost smiled at that, before he remembered that they were probably going to die.

Ahead of him he saw Cato nearly collide head-on with Thresh, who had come barrelling out of the forest on the other side of the clearing, a group of around seven mutts hot on his heels. The boy let out an animalistic growl as he lunged forward to attack the dark-skinned boy. It was a scramble, flailing arms, a sharp sword clanging harshly against the sharp-tipped machete.

Peeta was still watching the two of them struggle against one another when another mutt attached itself to his back, snarling hotly against his ear. He shook it off desperately, kicking out behind him as he continued to run, trying to make it to Cato so that he could help but before he even came close, another mutt joined the first and dragged him down. It was like déjà vu, except this time there were two mutts instead of one, and this time neither of them were Katniss.

This time he was ready to fight back.

At least, he would be. Peeta struggled for a second to get the knife in his hand in the right position to attack, gripping the metal handle so hard that it carved deep red lines into his palm. He tried not to look the mutts in the eyes as he wrestled with one, keeping it's snapping teeth as far away from himself as he could. He yelped out loud when one aimed its bite right for his crotch, like it knew how much that would hurt, fending it off with a swift kick to the side of its head.

He couldn't keep control for long, though, and one of the mutts managed to land a blow on his damaged shoulder while the other took the opportunity to sink its teeth into his leg, making him cry out in agony. He bit his lip hard, contained the pain as best he could and stabbed the closer of the two straight through the neck, tossing it to one side before rolling upright to reach the other one.

It ripped its teeth into his leg once more before he managed to drag it up to face level and drive his blade in right between the mutt's eyes – light brown eyes that used to sparkle with a certain naivety and innocence. Now they glittered with hatred and anger. Peeta groaned and closed his own eyes, blocked everything out as his weapon dragged the life out of the little boy from Three.

Pushing the second limp body to one side, he scrambled to his feet, blissfully unaware of the severity of his injuries until he tried to walk. Staggering forwards, his tattered limb could barely hold him upright. His leg screamed for attention, but he forced himself to not look at it, knowing that the sight of torn flesh and blood would only unnerve him further.

He shuffled forwards, slower than before, and his bad leg dragged slightly behind him. At least it was still functioning. Comforted by this, he turned around to survey the rest of the scene. Not too far away, Cato was still mid-fight, but he seemed to be standing strong as he kicked out at the mutts swirling around his legs and slashed at the bigger boy with his sword. You could see his years of training with the easy way he handled his weapon, like it was an extension of himself.

The same could not be said for Thresh. The boy was looking weaker by the minute, swaying slightly on his feet as he attempted to dodge the mutts and blows from Cato's sword. Somewhere down the line, he'd lost his machete. A mutt bit into his ankle, dragging him off his feet as Peeta watched.

Even though it looked like the other boy pretty much had it all under control, Peeta again hastened to join them. He knew how vicious the mutts could be. Cato might get hurt. Limping towards the fight as fast as he could, he quickly traded the knife in his hand for the dagger from his pocket. It was a little longer. Sharper. More effective.

Peeta edged forwards, ready to fight again, but he was stopped before he could get close enough to do any real damage. All of the mutts cocked their heads simultaneously, standing to attention just like they were receiving an order in their ears. He hesitated as they all turned away from the two boys in battle to look directly at him. The mutt at the front – Peeta didn't want to think about who it was, so he didn't bother trying to figure it out – lifted a paw toward him in a very deliberate manner.

If he thought they were natural before, he really didn't now. Just seconds later, the entire group of mutts (five at his last count) began their race toward him. He could only formulate one clear thought before they reached him – 'Oh, crap' before vicious snarls were all that he could hear.

They were on him in an instant. Peeta didn't have time to try and figure out their weak points or formulate any sort of plan of attack. He just had to attack. Desperately swinging his dagger around, barely able to see through the dark and the fur and the sharp, sharp teeth, he just hoped against hope that he'd get a lucky swipe and injure a few of them fatally, wiping them out.

He managed to get a few of them down, whimpering and bleeding, but others quickly replaced them. The other mutts were joining in – there must be at least eleven on him now, teeth piercing his skin and claws scratching deep gashes across his body. He grit his teeth, all the while kicking out at them and swinging his fist around blindly. He could barely focus, what with the piercing pain of the mutts eating away at his flesh and the agony from his already injured leg, but he forced himself to try.

Then a mutt ripped a massive chunk of his flesh out at the very spot on his shoulder that had been ripped apart earlier. He screamed out before he could stop himself or muffle the pain, anything. Peeta cursed lowly under his breath. If Cato heard, it was bound to have distracted him.

Gritting his teeth and blinking away stinging tears of pain, he tightened the grip on his weapon and valiantly pierced his way through the mass of heaving bodies again and again, only knowing the times when he was hitting the mark because of the pained yelps that would come from above him. They weren't a very freqent occurrence though, and he could feel himself getting weaker and weaker.

Although the pack of mutts had begun to lighten slightly but there were still a good number above him, on him, all around him. He knew that if he didn't move now, he probably wouldn't be able to at all. He grunted again as he landed a powerful kick on one of the smaller mutts with startingly red fur – Foxface. Kicking out once more, he felt no guilt when the blow to her side left her staggering back, winded.

The mutt whined, looking surprised that he had hurt her. How fitting: a stupid mutt for an even stupider girl. Not letting himself linger long enough for the satisfaction to set in, he hauled himself back to his feet. He had to get away from them before they wounded him too much. The only way to get away would be to climb to the top of the Cornucopia.

Just about struggling free of the mutts attacking him, Peeta crawled in the direction he'd last seen the other two fighting. Through bleary eyes he could just about make out Thresh on the floor, his body shaking and convulsing uncontrollably. Cato must have punctured a nerve or something, preventing him from getting up again. It looked like he was in a lot of pain.

Cato himself was getting bigger by the second, shouting something. That confused Peeta, until he realised that it was just the other boy running over to him. Closer and closer, the panicked, concerned expression on his face grew clearer, more frantic as his eyes scanned the damage to Peeta's body.

Reaching the other boy, Cato gripped his right hand tightly and pulled him forward, upright and on towards the golden horn. It was their one shot at safety. Peeta's legs were tripping behind him worse than ever, but he forced them to work as best he could in an attempt to make the task of dragging him along less strenuous for the older boy. He didn't want to be a burden to him.

So he struggled through, trying not to take advantage of the support Cato was offering him. That being said, it was obvious he needed the other boy's help. He couldn't seem to get anywhere on his own. Honestly, he could barely even walk. Cato turned around in manic desperation the third time Peeta tripped, hand almost slipping out of his grasp.

"Stop trying to do it on your own, would you? It's obvious you can't!" Peeta whimpered in pain as Cato jerked his right arm, his shoulder wound ripping completely apart. Peeta felt woozy as he looked down and saw the bright white of his bone, thick red blood already clotting on the skin around it.

"Shit." Cato's eyes widened and he let out a choked gasp that was a little more like a sob. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just… You're going to have to work with me here, alright?"

When the younger boy nodded, he tugged him closer, wrapping his arm round Peeta's waist and pretty much carrying him the last few precious feet to the Cornucopia. Setting the boy down, Cato turned and sliced one of the few remaining mutts in half almost symmetrically with one hard blow from his sword. Almost all of the other mutts seemed to have lost interest in them, turning their attention instead to eating away at the dark-skinned boy.

"Alright. Peeta, you're going to drag yourself up and then help me up, okay?" Cato had adopted a soothing tone, which might have been convincing if his face wasn't stretched so tight. His eyes were terrified. "Do you think you can do that for me?" Not waiting for an answer, he hoisted Peeta up above his head as high as he could manage. The younger boy wasn't exactly light, but what did he expect?

He tried his best to be gentle but he was more bothered about being quick, scrunching his face up with the effort it took him. Cato nearly dropped the boy as he grappled desperately for a good grip on the edge of the golden horn. Peeta's dagger clattered to the ground beneath them as he used his left arm to search for a good place to hold onto. He was barely able to move his right.

After a few moments of fumbling, he managed to find a ridge. He held onto it tightly then moved his right hand up to join it, though the effort made more tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He felt like he was on fire, his shoulder screaming at him to stop. Ignoring them, he used some of his last surges of energy to pull himself over the edge.

As soon as he was stable, the boy turned around to shoot a grateful smile at Cato. It was only then he realised that there was still a mutt clawing at the boy's ankles, one which he couldn't fight off because his arm – and, in turn, his sword – was still raised, ready to catch Peeta if he lost his footing and tumbled back down again. Stupid, stupid move.

Leaning over and reaching down, Peeta offered his hands out to him. Grateful, Cato gripped onto them both tightly and began to haul himself up, apparently forgetting about the deep wound in the boy's shoulder as he pulled on it without even attempting to be gentle.

Peeta closed his eyes, didn't let the pain show as his damaged skin tore open even further as a result of the strain and continued to help Cato up anyway. He wouldn't have offered his right arm if he couldn't deal with it. He just wanted the boy up here, safe on the Cornucopia with him and away from those horrible mutts.

A few moments later, Cato managed to scramble up beside him on the top of a golden ridge that jutted out slightly away from the main part of the horn. They both sighed in relief, looking down at the mutts. About six still remained, and all of them had returned to the task of devouring Thresh. Of course they had. They were no longer interested in the two boys who had evaded them and managed to make their way out of reach – it appeared that they were clever enough to know that they couldn't eat something they couldn't get to. Thresh, on the other hand, provided them with an instant promise of food.

"We're okay," Peeta whispered in awe, voice hoarse from his shouting earlier.

Cato nodded then turned to look at the other boy again. The soft smile on his lips died almost instantly as he caught sight of all the blood that stained Peeta's leg and torso. It was horrible, gory and far from okay. The more he looked, the more his eyes widened again in the desperate, tender sort of fear that Peeta had only seen in him once before, back when Clove had been hurt.

"Peeta…" The boy almost whimpered as he surveyed his friend's bleeding, bruised, and battered body. His multiple wounds were all varying degrees of seriousness – some were light, simply a graze from sharp teeth, but the majoriy deep and ragged and oozing blood.

The wound in his shoulder was the clearly worst. It was angry and swollen already, still bleeding. The sticky red substance was almost all Cato could see apart from the eerily white bone that poked out through the sea of blood. The flesh on either side was taut and looked like the uncooked, raw meat from a third-rate butcher back in the Seam.

"Look, Cato -" Peeta paused for a moment as he gasped in pain. "Just do it quickly, okay?"

Cato stared at him, bemused. Do what? For a moment, he thought that the blood-loss, or maybe some kind of concussion, had left the other boy disorientated and confused. He was about to go into mother-hen mode, and then he got it. Peeta was asking him to kill him.

It hadn't even crossed his mind that the two of them were opponents now. One of them had to die. It was just the two of them left, and the Capitol would want their victor. Well, there was still Thresh, but judging by the way his shouts were fading away in the distance, he didn't really stand a chance. He probably wouldn't hold out for longer than another five minutes. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, the familiar boom of the cannon rang out to confirm the boy's death.

"I'm not going to kill you." He snapped, irritated. "I didn't do all that to get you up here safely to then watch you die." He glared at Peeta who frowned back at him, seemingly confused. His lips parted to form an 'oh' but stilled and froze before he actually said it, stretched around the unspoken word in a perfect circle.

"But -" he groaned again. "I'm not gonna even last the night." He whimpered, definitely not above begging and guilt tripping at this point in time. "I'm… I'm dying here anyway. There's no point dragging it out. Cato, please, just do it already. Please? I want this."

Drawing his sword slowly, Cato studied his face through narrowed eyes, tracing his features like he was memorising them. Peeta watched at him in partial relief, but he couldn't quite fight down the indignant spark of surprise and betrayal that the other boy had given in so easily. A small part of him had been convinced that Cato would at least try and fight for him, would attempt to convince him that together they could beat the inevitable. Apparently not, though. Whatever, at least it'd end soon. And he'd pleaded, right? Cato was being merciful. He should just be happy and grateful for that.

"Thank-" But Peeta didn't manage to get the second shaky word out before Cato had tossed the weapon to the ground over the side of the Cornucopia. It landed in the green grass beside Peeta's abandoned dagger, metal blades catching the silver glint of the moonlight.

"What did I just say?" Cato growled, spinning around to face the younger boy again. "I'm not gonna let you die and I'm _especially _not gonna kill you. I'm not gonna do that."

Reaching out, he wound his hand around Peeta's and gently twined their fingers together. It was to comfort the injured boy, of course, but also to help himself to think. He had to figure out what he could possibly do to help the other boy before it was too late. That meant he had to think fast. He was sort of good at that.

Pulling out his water skin, he decided that rinsing the wound should help at least a little. Slowly dribbling it over the tattered flesh, he let out a low huff of frustration when he noticed that it was near empty. Peeta had one aswell though, so maybe together it would last. He just had to use it a bit more sparingly than he perhaps wanted to.

Silent up until now, Peeta hissed in pain as Cato dabbed some of the blood away with the course material of his sleeve. "Sorry," the boy muttered, not looking at him.

"Listen, Cato..." Using his good hand, he cupped his fingers around the other boy's chin and tilted it so that he couldn't avoid his gaze. "We both know there needs to be a winner. I – I want it to be you. You want it to be you. Just – think of the pride it will bring to your district." He valiantly attempted to persuade him, even smiled encouragingly. Maybe the effect a bit spoiled by how he was panting with the effort it took to ignore his injuries, but he was doing his best here.

"Shut up, I don't want to hear –" Cato started to say, but Peeta shifted his hand so that it covered his mouth and silenced him.

"I can't think of any life while you're not here. I think accepted it days ago that I... I just. I don't want to do this. Please, just, make it quick." He lowered his voice to a whisper and swallowed his pride. "It's hurting."

Of course, he was well aware of how pathetic he looked and sounded. He was sure it was the only thing that would get through to the other boy – convincing him that death was what he actually wanted. His eyes still stinging with unshed tears from earlier, he allowed a few to slip free and run slowly down his face.

Cato's expression remained hard and determined, but Peeta didn't think he imagined the slight glisten in his pale blue eyes. He almost smiled. Beneath all of his bravado, the boy was truly caring. When they first met, he would never have expected that.

"What makes you think I could live without you?" Cato demanded in a low voice. "No, you're going home Peeta. You are. Pride to my district, all that stupid crap I said before… before this," he gestured between the two of them. "That doesn't fucking matter, Peeta. What matters is you, and you're going to be okay. I swear that you are."

More than anything, it sounded like he was attempting to reassure himself of this. Peeta sighed. "Cato, thanks for… for everything, but I -"

"No." A tear escaped his eye and he wiped his cheek angrily. "Shut up. Don't start with some sort of stupid goodbye. Don't you dare even think about it. Don't. You're going to be okay. I promised you that you'd be okay, so you will, goddamn it! You have to be. If you die, I -" His voice rose with frustration and his face screwed up as he tried to think of an adequate ending to that sentence.

Then suddenly his face seemed to clear, tightly knit eyebrows relaxing and the worried crease between them smoothing out into nothing. For a fraction of a second, he honestly looked happy. It was gone in a flash, but it had definitely been there. Keeping his fingers laced with Peeta's, he used his other hand to rummage about in their light backpack until he found what he was looking for – the medicine they had for Clove.

Thinking back to her injuries, the bloodied skin and torn flesh, Cato was sure that this top quality Capitol-brewed stuff would be able to help Peeta a little. Maybe a lot. He faced the boy again and grinned.

"What did I say? We're gonna get you home, Peeta, we are, we are -" He unscrewed the cap and dabbed his fingers in, beginning to smooth it deep into Peeta's wounds. When he winced, Cato did feel a bit sorry for him. It probably hurt like hell, he thought. So he smiled sympathetically at the boy and rubbed soothing circles into the back his hand. He wasn't too surprised by the heated glare he was receiving.

"Cato." He said the name with a sort of exasperated venom, in a tone he saved only for the other boy. He hadn't used it since the start of the competition, back when they still didn't like each other. It was somewhat harder and sterner now, though. More tired. He'd accepted his death already, accepted defeat. Cato hadn't. Wouldn't. He'd walk happily to his own death before the boy beneath him drew his last breath.

"Peeta." He returned with a sceptic smile.

"You're – you're..." He struggled for the word. "You're insufferable."

"Yeah, of course I am." Cato laughed scornfully, and then filled the wound up with what was probably too much medicine, but whatever. He was sure that would increase the chances of it working. The more the merrier, as the saying goes. "I'm insufferable because I'm not letting someone I love die, and I'm helping them instead. Definitely insufferable."

Peeta stared back at him, his mouth falling open. Cato pondered for a moment at what he'd done wrong. It must be the cream. Maybe they didn't do it like that in District Twelve, or something. If that were the case, though, surely Peeta would have said something earlier. Wouldn't he? Maybe not. After all, the boy was convinced that he wanted to die. Stupid.

Forcing himself to stop guessing before he sent his mind reeling, he settled on waiting for the other boy to explain it to him as he dabbed at his shoulder wound just a little more. He could really use a bandage, he thought, to seal all of the cream in or something. He huffed in frustration, ready to make demands up to the skies towards the sponsors who were bound to be watching. Come to think of it, where were they in this time of crisis, anyway?

Then he remembered wrapping Clove up in bandages. Well, Peeta wrapping Clove in them. That wasn't the point. Maybe they still had some left…

"Someone you what?" Peeta finally gasped out.

Cato frowned distractedly, wondering what the hell he was talking about. He tried to figure it out as he dug into the bag for the bandages, replaying their conversation in his head as he did so. Yes! There was still a small roll left. He congratulated himself (well, Peeta actually, seeing as he usually did most of the 'medical care' and the packing away) for saving them before returning to what the boy had just said. Someone he - then he realised what he had blurted out before.

Someone I _love._

"I… I didn't mean that," he stammered at once. He could feet a blush work its way down from his cheeks to cover most of his skin in blotchy red patches on his neck and face. Peeta raised an eyebrow at him, his lips curling up into a soft smile. "Seriously, I didn't!" Cato insisted indignantly, somehow blushing more.

"You love me," Peeta announced proudly, now grinning.

"No I don't!" It had been a stupid slip of the tongue that didn't mean anything. He didn't love the other boy. Right? Staring at him, Cato tried to figure it out for himself. One thing was for sure – Peeta and his stupidly smug smirk were a complete pain in the ass. When had he even learnt to do that?

Of course he didn't love Peeta. He hated him. At least, he had at the start, and he was sure that you don't start loving someone you hate without realising it, right? Except, looking back, maybe hatred was a little too strong. It had been a lot more like jealousy – he was was jealous of how the boy had manipulated the other Careers and stolen some of Cato's limelight, and of how he had charmed the audience at the interviews so damn easily when everyone else had to try so hard, and that stupid burning costume that caught everyone's eye right away, captivated them so much that they never wanted to look away. Or maybe that was just him.

And, for all that Cato tried to convince himself that he hated Peeta, he knew that he liked him too. In fact, he really liked him. The boy was the sort of pain in the ass you only get with someone you know well and like a lot, the kind that makes you feel fond and warm and safe. Cato liked being with him, talking to him, laughing at him and knowing that he was alive. He enjoyed being able to see his little quirk of the lips when he was in a bad mood, but Cato had made him laugh and the exasperated little sigh and token shake of the head he'd do when the other boy had done something stupid.

Kissing him. Cato really liked kissing him.

Proving his own point, maybe, he leant forward to catch the other boy's lips with his own again. Peeta didn't respond at first, and Cato was a bit worried that he'd scared him off, but then he felt the other boy start to kiss him back eagerly, burning hot and passionate and different from before. Definitely different – it was far more confident, for one thing. His tongue even darted out to lick into Cato's open mouth, catching him off guard and then pushing it's way deeper when the boy's jaw slackened in surprise.

They kissed like they'd never kiss again, and hey, maybe they wouldn't, but Cato wouldn't allow himself to think like that. He couldn't afford to.

Breathing, Cato quickly discovered, was a lot more difficult when your mouth is otherwise occupied. He was sure that this hadn't been a problem before. Reluctantly pulling away, he panted to catch his breath, earning a frustrated whimper from the other boy and several sloppily placed kisses that just missed his lips.

Pausing for a moment, he added that to the list of reasons why he needed to keep Peeta alive – extremely good kisser. He couldn't deprive the world of talent like that. It would be selfish. He carefully ignored the jealousy that bubbled in his gut at the thought of the other boy doing that with anyone else.

"What were you saying?" Peeta muttered, nudging his nose against the other boy's cheek. His smirk was back, and smugger than ever, and Cato barely resisted the temptation to kiss it away. Barely.

"Shut up," he huffed instead. "That doesn't mean that I _love_ you or anything."

Even saying the words made him blush again. He was probably a horrible shade of purple by now, his mind lamented. What made it even worse was the fact that Peeta was laughing at him, quiet chuckles pressed into the base of Cato's neck.

Pushing him away sightly, Cato grabbed the bandage from where it was balancing somewhat precariously on the edge of the ridge. How had he not noticed that before? He'd have never forgiven himself if he'd let it drop to the floor because just he was too fucking sentimental and idiotic and he'd chosen the wrong moment for them to have a moment, or whatever the fuck that was.

Determined to finish what he started – saving Peeta, that is – he began to get to work at wrapping the thin material around the wound, which was already looking slightly better. He lifted Peeta's arm up gently at the elbow, ignoring the boy's mutters of 'ouch' and 'that hurts' as he began to wrap it in a sort of V-shape around his armpit, covering up as much of the blood as he could manage.

Satisfied by the sight of a sterile white bandage, which made everything seem so much more manageable, he decided to work on clearing up the rest of the boy's wounds, though they didn't seem to be as desperately in need of it as his shoulder had. Beginning to feel stirrings of hope, he let a small smile settle on his face as he tended to a nasty set of bloody red teeth-marks that marked the skin on his leg. He'd done just about all the absolutely horrible looking ones when Peeta began to speak again.

Here he goes, Cato thought with a sigh, but smiled up at him anyway.

"I still think you should just kill me," he announced. If he weren't so injured and bandaged up that he could have, he would've almost definitely crossed his arms, and Cato could swear that was an actual pout gracing his lips. He wouldn't ever admit it, but he thought the boy looked adorable.

"Well then, let's agree to disagree." Cato gave Peeta a slight smirk of his own. He was better at it, anyway. After all, he had more practise.

"Cato, stop joking around. You don't seem to understand that this is serious!" His voice rose. "They have to have their victor! They have to! And I'm not gonna be able to enjoy being a victor if you're dead!"

"Peeta, I don't think _you_ understand! You seem to think I'm going to be able to skip around and celebrate and lead a happy life with a fairy tale ending if I win, but you're wrong. That won't happen, no matter how much you want it to, and do you know why? Because, funnily enough, I don't want you to die either. I mean, I… I like you, you know? I really like you. I might even… you know." He blushed, hands fumbling around in the air between them to distract the other boy from his stupid burst of honesty, or whatever. "Look, I've already told you how I feel haven't I? And it's not as if I'm upset you haven't said it back, even though you know, you could've, but whatever, we both know that we care about each other and – what?" He stopped as he saw Peeta roll his eyes.

"I do too, you know." He said softly. "I – I like you, or whatever it is we're calling this. I like you a lot, Cato, and that's why you can't die. That's why I have to."

Their eyes met, fierce and sincere and determined. The two of them were locked in a stare, like the first to blink would be the one to lose or something childish. Neither of them was willing to look away, give in, and relent. They were at a sort of stalemate. What the hell could they do? Neither one of them was going to allow the other one to die. But one of them had to, right?

Distracted by their inane little staring contest, neither of them noticed the soft beeping coming from above them until a small silver parachute landed next to Peeta's head. Cato looked at it, surprised. He'd forgotten that things actually existed outside the arena, that there had been millions of people watching him stammer out his feelings in the least eloquent way possible. How embarrassing.

Curious, he was about to reach for it when another joined it, and then another. Looking around in confusion, he wondered if there had been some sort of mistake, like a malfunction in the parachutes department. He half snickered at the thought, imagining an office full of Capitol people clutching their ridiculous wigs in panic as the gifts flew out of the room. He shook his head, clearing away the improbable image. These were the Hunger Games – there were never any mistakes.

Peeta nudged him back to the present with a sharp elbow in the side, nodding his head to the skies where at least two more bundles were on their way to join the other silver offerings.

Growing increasingly confused, he opened up the first one that had landed. It was a really stupid gift, a little collection of heart shaped sweets that he scoffed at for a moment, before he remembered the similar present they had gotten when they had kissed outside the cave. It wasn't the most helpful gift they'd gotten, but it was kind of sweet, no pun intended. At least it's the thought that counts.

Calling out a slightly insincere thanks, he turned and offered one to Peeta, who nodded and then popped his mouth open expectantly. Of course, he was going to have to feed it him. Rolling his eyes, he tossed it into the back of the boy's throat as fast as he could, aiming for the tonsils and laughing loudly when Peeta spluttered on it and nearly choked. Serves him right, really.

Turning back to the other assortment of gifts – there were well over a dozen now, and more arriving every time he looked back, the reached for another in the hopes that it would contain something more useful, like water. Water would be nice. He was thirsty.

He was about to open up the next parachute when a satisfied little sigh echoed around the arena. A human sigh, Cato realised after a second of tensing up, half-expecting more mutts to appear – ones that would be able to climb the Cornucopia and kill them. Apparently though, the sigh hadn't been intentional as it was quickly followed by a short cough of embarrassment and a muffled declaration of 'I didn't know the microphone was on, you could have warned me!' before the voice went on to address them.

"Tributes," the person, who Cato quickly recognised as Seneca Crane, began. "There's been a slight – well, not exactly slight, it's kind of major actually – change in the rules..."

From the sound of his voice alone, Peeta could imagine the mischievous smile on the man's face. He wondered for a moment how someone who seemed so sunny and friendly,could ever be brutal enough to be Head Gamemaker. Distracted by this thought, the boy almost missed his next words.

"…Allowing for the last two remaining tributes to win. Both of them. Joint victors."

It took a moment for it to register, and even then it felt like a sick joke rather than a reality. Cato and Peeta just looked at each other for a minute, not quite comprehending what the man just said. Not only was that a shocking statement, but the announcement seemed totally out of the blue. It was completely unheard of for rules to change in Games, mainly because there weren't any rules really to be changed – just that twenty-three of the tributes die, and the unspoken rule against cannibalism, but whatever, that didn't count.

This was basically the whole structure of the Games themselves being changed around, just for them. Of course it was a little much to take in. Seneca Crane, being the generous man he was, gave them a second or two for it to sink in, not just for them, but the rest of Panem too. Everyone else would be just as shocked at the announcement, from the citizens in the Capitol to the people watching at home in the Districts.

"Luckily enough, it seems we have our last two tributes already." He commented, his tone almost teasing as he waited for some sort of reaction from the boys, who still sat frozen in place. Another few moments went by, and nothing happened. The man paused, clearly at a loss for what to do, then began to babble just to fill the silence. "That's it everyone!" he crooned delightedly. "This is the end. We know that none of you could stand to see such beautiful love torn apart."

There was a rustle at the end of the line, and something that sounded distinctly like 'that's enough, Crane, you've said enough'. Clearing his throat again, the man let out a nervous giggle. "Sorry about that. I think I got a little carried away. Anyway, let's give it up for our two victors of the seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games, Cato and Peeta of Districts Two and Twelve!"

He cheered loudly like a kid opening Christmas presents, apparently unable to contain his excitement. Then the Capitol anthem began to blare out triumphantly. The screams, squeals and cheers of the Capitol viewers were played through whatever the Gamemakers used to contact them – speakers? That didn't matter, though.

That was it. Game over. They'd won.

* * *

**A/N: **Hi guys! As always, thank you for reading. If you have a spare moment, please leave us a review. Feedback is always welcome, we love hearing what you guys think. On another note, wow, it's kind of taken a really long time for us to update this time. Sorry about that! Hopefully the super-long chapter will compensate? Also, we finally made it to over 100 reviews, so thank you all very much for that. It really means a lot! Have a nice week, and hopefully we'll see you again soon.

PS, thank you to Through Darkness Into Light for catching the typo and telling us about it!


	15. Chapter 15

**Know Your Enemy - Chapter 15**

* * *

When Peeta floated into consciousness, the first thing he was struck by was just how heavy his body felt. He might not have noticed if he hadn't tried to roll over to get himself more comfortable – he always slept on his side – but found it strangely difficult to make his limbs obey him. They wouldn't move. That didn't concern him too much, though. He could barely think straight when it was his head that felt the heaviest of all.

It was like it being held underwater; his mind seemed to be completely submerged in a sort of thick, grey dullness. It wasn't unpleasant exactly, but it was still unusual (and baffling) enough for him to will himself awake properly. Shaking himself, Peeta blearily opened his eyes.

He blinked, confused for a moment about where he was. This was mostly because it took a while for his eyes to adjust to the light, which shone in brightly from an open window at the corner of the room. Even before he could see properly, Peeta knew that something felt different. Slowly he began to realise that, for the first time in a long time, the strangling fear and panic that had constantly lingered over him during his time in the arena was gone. Instead he felt this overwhelming sense of security, like he was finally safe.

As the room slowly slid into focus, two fuzzy figures sitting across from him became steadily clearer. The splashes of bright, clashing colours topped off with a haze of candyfloss pink began to separate themselves from the subtle symphony of golden and brown beside them. Little by little, both of the colourful splotches morphed into the shape of two women, and a small smile involuntarily stretched across Peeta's face.

Peeta knew exactly who the women with him were, and he was definitely excited to see both of them. Last time they had met, despite all of his bravado, a quiet part of him had been convinced that he would never see either of them again. He thought their goodbyes had been final.

Sitting up as much his body would allow him to (and then lying straight back down when his head started throbbing), Peeta opened his mouth to greet them but the words stuck in his throat, coming out as nothing more than a garbled jumble of letters. At this, the bright pink head snapped up and a loud squeal slipped out from beneath it.

"Peeta!" Effie practically screamed, bustling over to him excitedly. "You're finally awake!" With that she lunged for him in a manner that was quite startling for someone who had only just woken up, especially after two solid weeks of constant anxiety and paranoia. Naturally, Peeta jumped.

Oblivious to this, Effie just grasped his face firmly between her hands and quickly turned his head from one side to the other. Her eyes narrowed briefly as she inspected him, like she expected him to break and shatter apart at her touch. After a few minutes of this, when she was finally satisfied that he wasn't broken or anything awful like that, Effie swooped in and hugged Peeta tightly. She felt warm and welcoming, even though her sharp nails dug a little too hard into his back.

When she pulled away, Peeta eyed her hands suspiciously. He was sure her nails hadn't been so painful last time she hugged him. They were now incredibly, impossibly longer than ever before - sharper, and shaped to be more pointy. Peeta hadn't even known that was possible, but if he had, he might have asked his prep team to help him achieve that look for the arena. Fingernails as weapons! No one would've seen that coming.

As always, Effie's nails were manicured perfectly. This time, each thumb was adorned with a small number '12' at its center. Peeta, in his drug-induced, slightly sleepy and confused state marvelled at that; District 12 was historically the District to be ashamed of rather than proud. They were the ones no one wanted to work with, let alone be associated with, but he'd given them something to be proud of.

"We were so worried that you wouldn't wake up in time," Effie told him, tone somewhat calmer and far less frantic than before. Cupping his face between her hands again, she leant forward once more to press a quick kiss to his forehead. He could feel her wide smile against his skin. "We're all so incredibly happy to have you back and I am so _so_ proud of you!"

Although it took a moment to process what she said, Peeta grinned back at her easily. He didn't realise quite how much he'd missed the woman and her inane (but nonetheless kind and affectionate) babble. Tightening her hold on his cheeks for a fraction of a second, she squeezed them softly before she stepped away. The hard clack of her heels against the hospital floor was distinctly 'Effie', the same way they always did. It was familiar and comforting. It made it feel almost as if nothing had changed.

Then Effie caught sight of the delicate watch on her wrist, and it was like something inside of her snapped. Back to routines, back to schedules. She straightened up abruptly and, although she remained smiling, her posture changed completely as she visibly hardened into her more business-like self.

"Now!" Adopting her no-nonsense tone, she fixed Peeta with a look that told him he was probably already running late for something or other. "We simply _must_ start getting you ready for going up on stage tonight! After all, it will take a long time to get you presentable enough for such a big audience! Portia, would you-"

"No."

Although Portia said the word politely enough – even accompanying it with a smile – the interruption still left Effie looking more than a little affronted. She glared at Portia, her painted pink lips puckering up into a tight pout as if she'd just been insulted. Then again, in her feather-headed mind, she probably had. Even unintentional rudeness caused Effie a pain worse than any form of physical torture ever could.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Portia elaborated, unfazed by Effie's obvious irritation. "Peeta needs to get some rest for a while. He's only just woken up." Her gaze flickered to the boy in question for a moment, and then back to the woman next to her. "Relax," she said. "We have plenty of time."

To Peeta's surprise, Effie didn't argue. Sure, she huffed and tottered over to the other side of the room with an expression that read 'on your head be it', but she didn't put up any further protest. Rolling her eyes at the other woman, Portia shot a quick wink in Peeta's direction. "Welcome back," she said. "Congratulations on the victory, by the way. You really kicked ass in there."

She spoke about it casually, like he'd won a bowling game or something equally trivial. Peeta grinned at her gratefully. It made him feel more normal. While Effie meant well and he loved her to bits for it, her incessant fussing didn't have quite the same soothing effect on him as Portia's calm and collected manner did. Right now, that was what he wanted. What he needed.

"Do you think you can sit up?" Effie asked, choosing to ignore the disapproving look this drew from Portia. Mainly because he didn't want to disappoint her, he attempted a nod, but his head still felt heavy and spun when he tried to move it. Frowning, he was forced to shake his head instead. At least that was easy – he just let his head loll from one side to another.

Just as he predicted, Effie looked dissatisfied with this response. Peeta couldn't quite bring himself to feel guilty about it, though. Honestly, he didn't trust himself to sit up properly, let alone the whole standing up, running around and forcing his limbs to co-operate with him thing that getting ready would involve. All he really wanted right now was to succumb to his desires and just roll over, blank out the world again and go back to sleep.

"I told you, let him rest!" Gesturing to him, Portia waved a hand towards his limp body with an exasperated sigh. "He can barely move! Does he look like he's in any fit state to get out of that bed to you?"

Peeta knew things were getting bad when Effie took a long pause before opening her mouth to reply. It was clear she needed a moment to compose herself enough to ensure her manners stayed in check, and that was never a good sign. He tuned them out pretty promptly after that.

He liked them both, and liked them a whole lot at that. They were his friends now, and that meant that they were important to him. If he could move right now, he'd stand up, hug them both and tell them that he loved them, then ask them (politely, of course) to _please_ shut the hell up. One thing he didn't want was to listen to them bickering, especially not over him. What he wanted was to relax and enjoy this new peacefulness that came with the hard-earned victory.

Shared victory, the voice in the back of his mind corrected him cheerfully. He wasn't the only one who had survived, after all, and that just made it all the more better. He felt his lips tug into a smile as it truly hit him for the first time. They'd actually managed to do it.

They had won. Joint victors. Both survivors. He had won. No matter how hard he tried to make it sink in, it wouldn't. Peeta knew that he had somehow survived. He'd won the Hunger Games. They both had, because Cato was still alive too. He knew the facts, but they just wouldn't process. It all seemed too good to be true.

Once he started thinking about Cato, he found it hard to stop. His mind wandered to whether or not Cato had just woken up as well, but he dismissed the idea quickly. It was unlikely. The period of time between the end of the Games and the first appearance of the victor tended to fluctuate; it could range anywhere from a matter of hours to several days, depending on how injured they were and how much healing they had to do.

When the aircraft arrived to collect them, Peeta had been much more injured than the older boy. Cato had been relatively unharmed, actually, and had even helped him hobble over to a stretcher that had carted him off soon after, where he was prodded at with needles and pumped up with medicine as soon as the doctors could lay their hands on him.

With this in mind, he knew that it would've definitely taken the Capitol a whole lot longer to patch him up and make him presentable enough for an audience than it would have taken them to fix Cato. That meant the other boy had probably been awake for a while. Could he have visited him here? Was he even allowed to do that? Peeta didn't know.

That was one thing he hated about this rule change – he had no idea what he was and wasn't allowed to do, or how he should behave. He didn't know what to expect or what was expected of him. No set of rules had already been laid out. Peeta felt himself longing to see the other boy again, just to check he was all right. He realised with a dull jolt that he missed him. Not really a surprise, but it still sent a thrill of shock right down his spine every time he realised how much he wanted to – no, needed to be around the other boy.

Suddenly Portia interrupted his thoughts with a soft hand on his shoulder. "Fine. If you're so sure then why don't we ask him?" he heard her snap from somewhere beside him. The sharp tone sounded strange and out of place in her voice. He'd never heard her snap before. "Peeta," she said. "What do you think?"

Smiling down at him, she waited for him to agree with her. He didn't really need to, though. Portia knew that she was right from the way his eyes were still glazed over and his body lay limp and perfectly still. He was in no fit state to go anywhere for at least an hour.

Beside her, Effie also looked at him expectantly for his verdict, and he realised a few seconds late that he was supposed to formulate an answer for them. The problem was, he hadn't listened anything that either of the women had said, and then the words he meant to reply with got lost on the way to his mouth. So, he just blurted out what was really on his mind.

"Where's Cato?"

He frowned. His voice sounded horrible, gruff and scratchy as a result of not using it and he coughed in attempt to clear his throat. This seemed to flip Effie straight back to squeal-mode as she made a slightly choked, inhibited noise. Portia quirked an eyebrow and gave him an amused smirk. Peeta suspected it was something to do with the fact that his first words when he had woken up were Cato-related, but he didn't dwell on that too much.

Instead, he watched Effie attempt to compose herself with no small amount of effort. "Not to worry Peeta," she exclaimed brightly after a few deep, calming breaths. "He's with his mentor! Of course, that _is _only my assumption, but it is the usual protocol for what happens when the victor leaves the arena."

Peeta frowned a little in confusion, and Effie mistook it for concern. "Oh, no. Don't you start worrying about Cato, dear. He's safe and sound, and you'll be seeing him in about three hours. Probably a little less than that, by now." With a pointed glance at Portia, she checked her watch again. "Two and a half, to be precise," she corrected herself. "Well, that's providing we manage to get you ready on time."

"Okay," Peeta said, too tired to correct her. There was no point. Easily distracted by the babble, he couldn't even remember why he was confused in the first place. Sometimes a part of him wished that Effie had a mute button, so he could just silence her rambling every now and again without offending her.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, Peeta felt guilty for even thinking it. Something must have shown on his face, because Effie smiled softly and extended her hand out towards him like she couldn't help herself. Very gently, in barely there little touches, she began to stroke her fingers through his hair.

Peeta relaxed into the touch, grateful for something quiet and calming. It was nice, until Effie looked down and saw something that caused her fingers to still instantly. Dismay and disappointment flickered across her face, marring her features as she examined the fragile new skin across his previously injured shoulder.

"Oh, Peeta!" She wailed, apparently forlorn. "That scar looks positively awful. I had no idea how bad it still was!" Her face scrunched up in worry. "I hope it won't show while you're in front of all those people out there, that would be a complete tragedy, especially as you've done so well!"

"Wow, Effie. Way to make me feel better about my deformities." Peeta sounded amused, making sure his tone teasing enough that the woman knew he was joking. He craned his head back as he spoke, trying to and see exactly what scar it was she was talking about. Portia laughed at him, handing him a pocket-sized mirror so he could see it more clearly. "Thanks," he said, taking it from her.

Aiming the silver screen towards his shoulder, Peeta rolled his eyes as the broken skin came into view. It wasn't awful, not really. He could barely even see the slightly jagged and thin line circling his shoulder, and the light, skin coloured stitches that bounded the sides together were nearly invisible. He didn't really why it was a problem, but he knew Effie well, and Peeta could tell without even looking up at her that she was freaking out over it.

He tried to think of something to say that would calm her down, but nothing sprung to mind. Thankfully Portia jumped to the rescue. Peeta made a mental note to himself to bake her the largest 'thank you for saving me from Effie's insanity, I owe you forever' cake that he could when he got out of here.

"He's wearing a suit, Effie." She smiled encouragingly, and it might have looked genuine if Peeta hadn't caught the slight roll of her eyes before she had spoken. "No one will be able to see it, I promise. Besides that, remember what the doctor said? It should heal up in no time when the stitches drop out, good as new. It'll be like it never happened by the time it gets to the Victory tour."

Effie bit her lip for a second before dropping it, scandalised at herself that she'd indulged in such a stupid nervous habit. Her arms flapped around uselessly for a moment, like she didn't know whether to keep on worrying or just relax. Sighing restlessly, she gave a slight nod of her head to show she had been reassured, but she still flitted about his shoulder with a scowl on her face as if she could somehow glare the scar into submission and make it heal up faster through force will alone.

At least it fell silent for a few minutes, though, and for a while the only sound interrupting the quiet was the steady sound of the three of them breathing. It gave Peeta time to think. He took the opportunity to consider the question that had been niggling him at the back of his mind: If Cato was with his mentor, why wasn't he?

"Hey, where's Haymitch?" Thankfully, his voice sounded less gruff now that he'd used it a little and it came out less like a monster and more like himself. He couldn't help the small frown of confusion from appearing on his face. Now the words were out, it made him even more curious as to why his mentor wasn't with him. His mind raced ahead of him in search of answers.

Maybe Haymitch didn't want to see him? Maybe he was drunk. Hopefully not. The thought of that made Peeta uneasy. Surely he would be happy that Peeta had won? But then where was he?

"He's with the Gamemakers!" Effie chirped, which simultaneously put a lid on one set of worries and opened up a whole door of others. What could Haymitch possibly have to talk to them about now? The games were over. Then he realised that expected edge of disapproval that usually tainted Effie's voice when speaking about his mentor didn't come. Perhaps the two of them had finally overcome their differences while he was in the arena. Become friends, even? Not likely, but hey. Optimism never hurt anyone.

There he was getting distracted again. He shook his head and forced his mind to focus – the status of their friendship wasn't important at this moment in time. It could wait.

Peeta bit his lip, stuck on the word Gamemakers. Even though he was out, the mention of them still made him uneasy. Memories began to flash in his head of his time in the arena and how they had controlled his fate in there. The weather, the feast, the mutts. All of that had been them. Questions began to swim around his mind, fuelled on further by his paranoia. Why would the Gamemakers want to see his mentor? Was it because he had done something wrong? Were they still planning on controlling his fate, even now?

Effie seemed to notice his stress, and clucked over him. The fingers still tangled in his hair began to move again, a soft and steady rhythm that slowed his racing mind. "Not to worry, Peeta. It's nothing important, or Haymitch would have warned me about it before he went." The trust in her voice was unfailing, and Peeta smiled at that. "I'm sure not a bad thing! In fact, I'm quite sure that it's not even an official visit!"

Sighing in relief, Peeta leant back into Effie's motherly touch without even thinking about it. He better soak up all the affection from her that could before she turned all crazy dictator on him again. It wouldn't be too long before that happened, not with only two-and-a-bit hours to go. He smiled ruefully at the thought, and sure enough, Effie's hand stilled within the next ten minutes. She was predictable, because she worked like clockwork. Reliable. Peeta liked that.

When she began to usher him out of his bed, his body seemed a whole lot more willing to co-operate and he climbed shakily to his feet without much protest. Since almost an hour had passed since the initial attempt, which was practically a year for Effie and her schedules, Portia didn't even try and stop her as she bustled Peeta around this time.

He felt fine now, and even finer by the minute. His head seemed to get lighter as whatever pain medication the Capitol had gave him wore off. His limbs felt less sluggish, more active, and when he stretched them out they felt even better. Satisfied that he wasn't going to fall or pass out or anything embarrassing, he grinned and followed Effie and Portia down a short corridor and into his dressing room.

Excitement and nerves stirred inside him and he knew that the fluttering butterflies at the very pit of his stomach weren't due to the prospect of facing the whole of Panem. It was what was bound to come with it, out there for the whole world to see. It was his reunion with Cato.

* * *

The initial excitement fizzled out fairly quickly under the merciless hands of his prep team. He'd forgotten quite how much waxing hurt. Sure, in the last couple of weeks he'd been practically eaten alive by mutts, survived for long periods of time on a nearly empty stomach and almost lost his arm but at the moment all of that paled in comparison to this as Paloma yanked a line of long hair off his thigh. He hissed, finding it much harder here to remain composed.

He balled his hands up into fists, willing tears not to spill out of his eyes. He was a man now, he told himself, and men don't cry at a little bit of hair being pulled out of their flesh. Still, when Paloma ripped out a streak from his upper thigh, he didn't hold it against himself when one small tear slipped out. It was only small. It didn't count.

Besides making him look better in the most vicious way possible, the three members of the prep team who had never seemed to like him before the Games now looked at him as if he were a God. He didn't understand it at first, and then he realised that they were all just bursting to grill him about Cato.

Every once in a while Ryden would squeal and, when questioned about it ("Whoa there, are you okay?" from Peeta and "What is it? What have you remembered?" from the rest of the team), he would blush and mutter something about the various antics Cato and Peeta had gotten up to. Thankfully it was mostly just squealing and flailing. They didn't go into too much detail over it all, save for the occasional squawk of "the kiss!" or "that _look_!" which were easy enough to ignore.

Peeta suspected that Portia had warned them to back off to save him from the embarrassment of answering all their awkward questions. She knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't have a clue what to say to any of that, and he felt immensely grateful for her accurate guess. By the amount of effort it was taking these three to hold themselves in, he was pretty sure that if they had been left unrestrained the situation would have only ended up in chaos. Domino was visibly shaking with excitement, and their grins were so wide it had to be hurting their faces.

Their resolve finally broke when Domino was trimming the tips of his hair. "When you and Cato kissed, I cried so much that I was sick!" She blurted out suddenly with an undeniable sense of pride. It seemed she couldn't help herself from making that announcement. The smile that accompanied it was completely scary on her misshapen feline features, and her whiskers twitched in excitement.

Peeta honestly didn't know what to say. He felt horrible.

"Ooh! Which time?" Ryden joined in enthusiastically. "My favourite was their first kiss." He sighed happily and clapped his hands together, dropping the little metal object in his hands on the floor with a clatter. Were they called tweezers? He wasn't sure, but whatever they were, Peeta didn't like them. They hurt just as much (if not more) than waxing.

Domino bent down and picked them up for him, her tail sticking up in the air, and it struck Peeta again just how weird Capitol citizens were. Who would want to make themselves look like a cat? It just didn't make sense to him. A moment later she was back upright and she handed the shiny things back to Ryden with a feral smile that revealed her neat rows of fang-like teeth.

"My favourite was the kiss on the Cornucopia!" Paloma chipped in as she pulled the hair away from his upper thigh. Peeta grimaced. "It was _so_romantic!"

"Oh, no" Ryden shook his head. "Mine has to be when I thought Cato was going to kill him, but he threw the sword down on the ground instead!" Clutching at his heart, the man practically swooned. "It was so perfect, don't you think? It just made my heart melt."

Peeta shifted uncomfortably as they continued to enthuse about their favourite moments of the games, adding their own spin and interpretation to practically every word he had exchanged with the other boy throughout the course of the competition. At least they were talking over him and not to him. That way, he didn't have to participate.

"Just wait until Cato sees you tonight," Ryden said suddenly, as if he had read Peeta's mind and decided to contradict it, grinning creepily as he massaged some sort of serum into Peeta's hair. "We're going to make you look so hot that he won't be able to keep his hands off you."

Domino giggled loudly at this, and Paloma winked at him. "Would you like me to do your bikini line, too?" She asked him with a wicked grin, pointing a wax strip in the direction of his crotch. Panicked, Peeta closed his legs to protect himself and frantically shook his head.

"No! Uh, I mean no. Just no. No thank you, even. Thanks, but no." His face was bright red. "That won't be necessary at all."

Ryden cooed in disappointment. "Are you sure?" he asked. "What if he wants to get frisky with you? You've heard the phrase, haven't you Peeta? You know, absence makes the pants grow harde-"

"That's enough," the boy said firmly, trying hard not to glare at them. "Look, I appreciate the fact that you're interested, but I'm really not comfortable discussing this.

Paloma rolled her eyes. "I bet if we had Cato, he'd tell us everything," she whispered to Domino. "None of the juicy little details spared. He's more fun than this one. I'm so jealous of his team!"

"Don't worry," Domino whispered back, and Peeta wondered if they knew that he could hear them. "I'll be having words with Donna later, and she's already promised to find out everything."

Peeta bit back a retort that they were likely to get even less from Cato than he had given them, unless a hard punch in the face counted as more. Poor Donna was probably sporting a rather impressive black eye by now. He didn't say anything, though. There was no point in getting into an argument with them. Not when they had the means to seriously injure him at their disposal.

Eventually the conversation moved on, and they seemed to be content once again to just squeal in his general direction about how "cute" he was, and how "adorably insane" Cato acted. Peeta snorted at that, which only made them babble and enthuse more. Peeta didn't mind, really. As long as he didn't have to speak much, it was fine. At least it gave him a good idea of what would be in the "best bits", and how to play the crowd a little. He knew what they liked. He knew what they didn't like. Hopefully Cato would just roll with it.

Besides that, it was kind of funny to listen to them ramble about the strangest of moments. It passed the time, and took his mind off the pain of several weeks worth of hair being ripped out of his skin. Ryden seemed to hold some sort of vendetta against Foxface, and he kept on insisting she was the daughter of a devil. He had to try hard not to laugh at that. See, he knew that Ryden was his favourite for a reason.

* * *

Peeta's legs felt raw under the smooth silk of his brand new suit, which skimmed lightly over his now hairless skin – the reunion with his prep team had been nothing short of brutal, but they had left him looking sharp, smart and sophisticated.

Catching sight of his reflection in one of the gleaming walls opposite him, Peeta knew that he looked a whole lot better than that ragged and unkempt boy who had been in the arena. Skin that was once stained with blood and mud was now a seamless and pale cream; hair that stuck out in all directions was now perfectly tame and slicked back neatly.

Who knew if the audience would even recognize him? He knew for sure that if he was in their place, he wouldn't. He looked as neat as a pin, as good as new if not better. It was almost as if nothing had happened to him since the last time he had been suited up for an interview with Caesar. Warrior. Hunter. Murderer. All the names that applied to him just days before slipped away, hidden by Capitol glitz and glamour. Suddenly Peeta was back to being just a poor boy from District Twelve in a suit far too expensive for him.

The only sign that anything had changed within him was in his eyes. They seemed different somehow. Older. Harder. Wiser. He wondered if Cato's looked the same.

"Excuse me," a man wielding a heavy camera called out to him politely, waving Peeta out of his path as he shuffled past. "I have to get this set up before the show," he explained, tapping a hand on the black plastic by way of explanation. "Thought we had enough already, but they want more. Don't want to miss any of the good stuff, they say."

Then, with a suggestive wink that left Peeta blushing, the man was gone.

Caesar Flickerman's Highlights of the Hunger Games show was due to start in roughly ten minutes time, and Peeta felt both nervous and slightly nauseous. He straightened his tie for lack of anything better to do with his fidgeting hands as yet another man scuttled across the room. This one was wrapped up in a tangle of wires and circuits, and he shot Peeta a small smile and a nod of congratulations as he went.

As friendly as the gesture was intended to be, it did nothing to soothe the boy's nerves. Of course, he wasn't nervous to face Caesar and his audience, or the whole of Panem for that matter. They had monitored him for days already, watched and played back and analyzed every little move he made. Repeat. They did it every year. Now was hardly the time to get camera shy, after all of that.

No, he was far more worried about having to watch back whatever the Capitol deemed to be the "best bits" of the Games. This tended to be the most awful, the most exhilarating, high tension and painful moments they could find. The ones that make the audience gasp and sigh in horror. The ones that cut the victor more deeply than the stab of a sword ever could.

The only thing keeping him collected and holding him together was the comfort he found in knowing that he was going to see Cato again as soon as he stepped onto that stage. According to Effie, the Capitol wanted to save their big reunion for the audience, probably in the hopes that they would do something dramatic like cry and hug while declaring their undying love for each other.

Effie may have been half-joking about that part, but even she had sounded slightly wistful as she spoke, smiling at him stupidly. Peeta had nodded along, smiled back and tried not to be embarrassed at the way everyone seemed to gush over their relationship. He didn't have the heart to tell her that the chances of that happening were little to none. Cato wasn't exactly the most affectionate person, after all. Well, not in the conventional sense, anyway. On a day-to-day basis, mocking and pigtail pulling were more his style than kissing and cuddling would ever be. That sort of stuff was saved for special occasions, like almost dying.

Biting back the goofy grin that began to ease its way across his face, Peeta quickly turned his attention back to the stage, which was currently empty save for a leather armchair and a plush red loveseat that was perched opposite it. He could just about make out Caesar in the wings, concealed from the audience behind a satin curtain, his pastel blue hair catching in the bright light from above.

On a screen behind his head, the countdown for the crew informed them all that they had 47 seconds before they went live. Nods were exchanged. Caesar straightened his suit and shot a practice smile out to no one in particular. Lights dimmed. A kaleidoscope of bright Captiol colours radiated out of the audience, where the crowd sat with baited breath.

The screen flashed eight, seven, six…

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!" Caesar boomed and the lights came up, illuminating his pearly white teeth as he strode out on stage with a wide smile and silly wave. The sound of his voice was met by the usual chorus of whoops and screams, and Peeta wondered when exactly it had all become so familiar to him.

As Caesar babbled to the crowd, enthusing about what an interesting year it had been in the arena, Peeta let himself be led forwards by an irritated woman with a clipboard tucked neatly under one arm. She positioned him on a podium that would, presumably, lead him onto the stage as soon as the cue was given. It was strangely reminiscent of beginning of the Games, and his heart sped up just standing on it.

"Are you ready?" she asked him in short, clipped tones. Peeta nodded and imagined Cato at the other side of the stage being asked the exact same question. "Good," she said coldly, in a way that implied it was anything but. "You're going to be on in ten seconds. Smile."

He stretched his lips around his teeth in what can only have looked like a grimace, and she shot him a glare that told him it was pathetic, but it would have to do. Caeser called out an introduction. The screaming increased ten-fold.

Beneath Peeta's feet, the podium jerked violently and shuddered to life, nearly knocking him off balance as it carried him towards the center of the stage.

* * *

Apparently Cato didn't have the patience to wait for the podiums to reach their destinations at their own leisurely pace. As soon as he set his eyes on Peeta and discerned which direction the other boy was coming from, he was off the platform and charging across the stage, jaw set and determined.

The excited crowd gasped in unison as he grabbed Peeta's arm less than gently and pulled him down from his pedestal clumsily. In the crowd, everyone leaned forwards in their seats with keen anticipation of an embrace that never came. Instead, Cato tightened his grip on the other boy and dragged him off into the wings where they were shrouded from the audience's view by the same curtain that had hidden Caesar just minutes before.

"Are you okay?" Cato demanded instantly. "If you're not, you need to tell me right now. We won't be able to talk properly out there. I need to know that you're okay."

Peeta smiled at him, soothing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Those Capitol painkillers work wonders. I can barely feel my arm at all." To reassure him further, he wiggled his fingers in demonstration.

Cato glared down at them distrustfully, then placed the flat of his palm on Peeta's shoulder where the skin had ripped, pressing the silk of his shirt firmly into the stitches that twisted their way down his arm underneath. "I hope you aren't lying to me."

Rolling his eyes, Peeta shook his head. "Why would I lie about something like that, stupid?"

"I don't know," Cato admitted lamely, shrugging. He couldn't really justify it but for him, a bit too much concern was the closest thing to showing he cared that he actually knew how to display. "I just wanted to make sure."

Just then, a blue head popped around the curtain, pulling it back. Another man with a mobile camera stood behind his shoulder, lens directed straight towards the boys. On the wide screen in front of the audience, the sight of their blushing faces swam into view.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds," Caesar piped chirpily, making a point of eyeing the way Cato's hand curled firmly around Peeta's shoulder. "Are you planning on joining us back on stage any time soon?" The microphone attached to his collar amplified his voice so it bounced around the room. After a beat, the audience laughed.

"We are _not_ lovebirds!" Cato snapped at him, taking a step away from Peeta as he spoke. To his horror, this only made the audience laugh even more.

"Strong denial in a rather over-defensive manner. That is such a Cato move." Caesar stage-whispered into his microphone, like he was sharing a secret, before spinning around to face the crowd again. "Isn't that such a Cato move?" he called to them for confirmation. The answering scream was deafening. Peeta laughed.

"Shut up," Cato muttered back darkly, and Caesar looked positively delighted that the boy's catch phrase had made an early appearance.

At the look of confusion mixed with sheer irritation on the other boy's face, Peeta decided to intervene before Caesar got his head chewed off. "Come on," he said, grabbing Cato's arm and tugging him towards the stage. "We'd better get on with these highlights. I think we've knocked the show off schedule enough already."

"Fine then. Whatever." Glaring, Cato jerked his arm away from Peeta. "I don't need you to lead me, you know. I'm perfectly capable of walking by my self."

"Oh, I know," Peeta replied placidly, like he was humouring him. Cato huffed then, realizing that sounded more petulant than it did threatening, he growled.

"Wow." Behind them, Caesar let out a low whistle. "Looks like they're just as explosive in real life as they were in the arena! I'd say that we sure are in for a show tonight, ladies and gentlemen."

* * *

As soon as they got back on stage, Peeta and Cato were ushered onto the red loveseat (which was barely big enough for one person, let alone two) together. It was so small that their knees bumped and their thighs brushed with every little movement they made, despite Cato's rather unsubtle efforts at putting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

In his usual childish manner, Cato had lined his entire body up against his armrest as closely as he could. He even leant away from Peeta, turning his head just enough that he wouldn't be able to see the other boy out of his peripheral vision, even if he wanted to.

No matter what Peeta did, he couldn't even get Cato to look at him. When he shifted closer to the boy, Cato actually flinched.

Although he wasn't sure exactly what he had done in the last two minutes that warranted him getting the silent treatment, he had experienced it often enough in the arena to know that this was probably bad. It left him feeling cold inside. Hollow.

Biting down on his lip subconsciously, he worried at it with his teeth until the soft flesh stung and he could taste the coppery tang of blood against his tongue. When he released his swollen lip, a few people in the audience actually cooed at his obvious display of discomfort.

With an amused look, Caesar took to the armchair opposite the two boys. He seemed to sink into the soft leather entirely. Signature beam in place, he gave an animated introduction about the show to the crowd, as if they didn't sit and watch the same spiel every year.

Peeta quickly tuned him out, focusing instead on the downturned corners of Cato's lips and the worried clench of his eyebrows in the middle. He desperately wanted to reach out, smooth it flat with his fingertips, but he didn't. Couldn't. Not here.

* * *

By the time he started paying attention again, screens had flickered on all around him. They were already showing a few of the selected clips of the twenty-four Tributes as they fought for their lives, starting with the first few bloody days in the arena.

Judging from the audience's incessant laughter and cheering, Caesar had been right about the show being an exciting one. This was what the Captiol crowd deemed to be a good show. For Peeta on the other hand, experiencing everything all over again in the so-called highlights was unpleasant, to say the very least.

They showed the bloodbath at the Cornucopia first, where each of the two victor's had taken their first kill, followed up by a consecutive catalogue of death after death after death.

Watching intently because he couldn't seem to look away, Peeta witnessed each of the deaths he had caused, like that stupid girl who had lit up a fire on the first night, and some deaths he hadn't even known about. One boy fell in a shallow ditch and drowned. Another managed to eat a poisonous frog. When he fell asleep, he never woke up again.

Every now and again during this, Caesar's commentary would pause and the screens would flicker still, frozen on some picture of horror or another. Here, he'd hand Peeta or Cato the microphone and ask them what thought.

"Ouch?" Peeta had said uncomfortably, wincing as he watched the boy stumble over the edge of the uneven earth and hit his head hard on a protruding tree root. He wasn't surprised when the boy didn't get up again.

"Bad move," Cato muttered as the other boy bit a chunk straight out of the large frog he had just roasted. "He hasn't even skinned it or taken the guts out," he observed, tone laced with obvious distaste. "No wonder he ended up eating the poison."

As the Tributes being killed became less anonymous and more familiar to the audience, the clips changed. It wasn't just the death shown anymore. It was the lead up to it, too.

Then suddenly everything was on fire, as if the very screens were aflame, and heavy smoke curled up from the trees inside them from every direction. "Now, here's one moment I'm sure you can all remember," Caesar boomed, coupling his gesture towards the burning screen with yet another toothy grin.

A few seconds later, Katniss appeared from the thick of it. Peeta felt a strange swell of pride as he watched her stumble and limp her way out of the flames, skin stained black by dark charcoal scorch-marks. Her hand was pressed to her thigh where it was singed open, skin blistered red raw and bursting.

In that moment she was so weak, wounded and barely able to move, yet somehow she still looked strong, like she was determined to live as she ran on. A lump formed in his throat as he watched her struggle, knowing that she never made it to the end. All that fight in her, and she never made it.

Speeding up as she went downhill, she plunged noisily into cool water, panting and gasping for breath. Inspecting her leg, Katniss clenched her teeth and tried to bite back the yelps of pain as she washed the injury clean.

Peeta could recognise the scene now, and his gut twisted in displeasure as he the loud shouts of the Careers in the distance closed in on her. When they got close, the five of them quieted, creeping up on her with all intent to kill. The room was deadly silent as everyone watched, waiting to see what had happened as if they'd never seen it before.

When Marvel stepped on the twig, breaking it, the sound seemed to echo around the room.

Startling, the girl on the screen looked up at them with wide, frightened eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. In an instant she was off, quickly hauling herself out of the water and away into the woods.

The footage jumped forwards. Katniss was in the tree, peering down with a frosty confidence that chilled Peeta's blood. The Careers were gathered around the base of the tree, deliberating over what they should do.

"I'll do it," the Cato on screen said firmly, and about half of the audience squealed.

He was looking right at Peeta when he spoke, a look of grim determination on his face. The promise he had made the other boy by the fireside the night before seemed to linger in the air around them, earnest and intense.

Chancing a quick glance in Cato's direction, Peeta was disappointed that he was met with nothing. The other boy was still resolutely ignoring him.

"There's no point," on-screen Peeta pointed out, shaking his head. "If she's armed, she'd be able to defend her position more easily than you could attack it, you'd only get hurt."

The concern in his voice was far more obvious than he'd intended it to be, even back then. Naturally, this pulled a reaction from the crowd and a chorus of 'aww's resounded. Caesar chuckled along with them. Beside him, Cato's neck flushed a light shade of pink.

Peeta tried hard not to smile.

Then the screen flickered once more, and the purplish light of mornings in the arena shone out. One camera showed Rue in a tree, desperately trying to catch Katniss' attention without waking up the sleeping Careers below. Another showed the buzzing nest of tracker-jackers that hung precariously over their heads from a fairly thin branch.

It showed Katniss standing up, leg almost fully healed. She pulled out a knife and began to saw away at the branch. Before they dropped, a few of the wasps landed stings to her hands and neck. Ignoring them, Katniss continued to hack away at the wood until it gave way.

An instant later, the nest exploded onto the floor.

Clove and Marvel ran for safety. Peeta yanked Cato from Glimmer's clutches, and staggered away with him. Glimmer, kicking and screaming, succumbed to the wasp's attacks. Her once-beautiful face was left swollen and scarred, barely even recognisable.

"How did you feel when you lost Glimmer?" Caesar asked to close his commentary on the clips played. The screens stilled here, stuck on a blown up image of the girl's purpling flesh, and the man offered a microphone to Cato. With some reluctance, the boy took it.

"I felt pretty relieved, I guess," he replied honestly, and then attempted to hand it straight back to him. Caesar ignored this gesture, leaving the boy stranded with the device as he continued to address him.

"That makes sense," the man nodded, his face conveying sympathy and understanding. "It must be relieving to know that you did not have to kill her yourself. Had she not died then, she would have remained an opponent and, despite your alliance, you would have inevitably turned on her to protect yourself."

"No, that's not why I was relieved," Cato said, frowning slightly. "She just kept touching me and stuff." His nose wrinkled up in disgust. "It made me really uncomfortable, and honestly, she was a bit of a liability. She couldn't use that bow at all. As far as I was concerned, the quicker she was gone, the better."

Caesar and the audience erupted into laughter, and even Peeta couldn't stifle the soft giggle that slipped out before he could stop it. Surprised, Cato peered around his shoulder to glance at him and, for a moment, the two of them just blinked at each other. Flushing a hot shade of red, Cato was the first to look away.

A moment later, Peeta felt the boy's rigid muscles relax into their shared seat a little more. The firm press of his body against the armrest slackened. If questioned, Cato would tell you that his muscles were getting sore and stiff from the effort of staying away from Peeta. He'd mumble a curse under his breath about the stupid Captiol and their stupid seats that aren't big enough from two, goddamn it, and, most importantly, he'd want you to know that he did not want to be nearer to the other boy. That wasn't the case at all.

The next time when their knees brushed, Cato didn't spring away. Instead he froze in place, warm and firm against Peeta's side, and stayed there. While it wasn't much, it was enough to tell Peeta that they were going to be okay. They were going to be okay.

* * *

As the highlights progressed, they became increasingly difficult to watch. Now there was the occasional snippet of Thresh running through tall golden fields slipped in, or a quiet moment of Katniss and Rue talking. Foxface eating. They showed Clove laughing, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight as she smiled fondly at the other Careers across the campfire. Three curled up in front of the tent with a weapon twice the size of him resting across his lap.

In the audience, you could pinpoint from people's forlorn faces alone exactly when it was that their favourite died. After Katniss blew up the supplies, the snap of Three's neck under Cato's hands had about half the audience shooting offended glares at the boy in question.

"I was really angry," he told them defensively. "Maybe it was a bit of an over-reaction, but the kid screwed up my game plan completely. We lost everything, and the kid had to go some time." Cato shrugged. "It wasn't as if a tiny little thing like him was going to win, was it?"

A few people actually booed when he said this, and he glared at them fiercely. Peeta took the microphone from his grip before he could make the situation even worse. "What Cato means is that, while he lashed out a little back there, at least it was a quick and painless death for the boy. He wasn't nearly as physically strong as other contestants, so who knows what would have happened if someone else had found him and killed him? He was an easy target."

"Well said," Caesar said, accepting the microphone back before the other boy could snatch it from Peeta's grip and correct him. "Now, from what I understand, the two of you were both very close to Clove throughout the competition. Would you say that's correct?"

"Yeah," Peeta said slowly, knowing what was coming. His heart felt like someone had poured lead into it. He wasn't ready for this. "Yeah, I'd say we were."

Cato paused for a moment, then reached out and grabbed the microphone. "I've known her since she was four," he said. "I was six, and I was the biggest and the strongest kid in my class. Everyone was kind of scared of me. Clove wasn't, though. The first day we met, she actually threw a knife at me." He laughed a little hysterically and his voice cracked, so he cleared his throat before continuing.

"We weren't friends, we were rivals. Clove did everything I did, and she usually did it better even though she was two years younger and a girl. When I volunteered for the Games, that's why…" he trailed off. Took a deep breath. "That's why she did it. She was meant to wait two years, but she didn't want to wait two years if I was doing it now. That's why she's… she's dead. She wanted to prove she was better than me in every way, and she was. She was better than me. She didn't deserve… she didn't deserve to die."

Blinking, Cato handed the microphone back. He looked stunned that those words had come out of his mouth at all, let alone in front of hundreds of people. Caesar looked equally taken aback. Not knowing what else to do, Peeta reached out and twined his fingers with Cato's and squeezed his hand gently and, although the boy did not acknowledge the gesture outwardly, Peeta felt his soft answering squeeze.

Their fingers stayed locked together as they watched Marvel abandon her in favour of finding Katniss and Rue. Their grips each tightened when Thresh ran his sharp blade straight through Clove's stomach, as if he were slicing through butter and not a person. By the time the on-screen versions of them appeared by her side, too late to even say goodbye, their grasp was almost painful.

Peeta was sure that Caesar could see the way their hands were clenched together and resting on top of Cato's knee. It wasn't like they were making a secret out of it. Maybe Caesar knew not to question it. Peeta appreciated that.

* * *

Cato didn't let go when Rue died, nor did he loosen his grip as he watched himself kill both Marvel and Katniss. He held tight on while he watched Peeta and Foxface's exchange, even snickering slightly as the other boy turned bright red.

When they watched the mutts chasing after them again, Cato even closed his other palm over the back of Peeta's hand, like he needed to reassure himself that Peeta was there, that he was still alive, solid and present, as more and more chunks of his bleeding flesh were torn out by sharp teeth and claws.

It wasn't until they were on top of the Cornucopia, when they were safe from the mutts and Thresh's cannon had sounded. It was when Caesar turned and winked at the audience.

"Now, here we have the true highlight of this year's Hunger Games," he said, and that was when Cato let go and the cold, hollow sort of feeling returned to Peeta's chest. The blown up version of Cato on screen was distracted, rummaging through their bag and looking for the bandages. Peeta's face contorted was in pain.

"I'm not letting someone I love die," the boy on-screen announced absent-mindedly, and then froze in place. The audience cheered and clapped.

"That's completely out of context!" Cato snapped, outraged. "That wasn't what I said at all. You've just sugarcoated it and made it into whatever the hell you want it to be! What right do you have to do that?"

Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you need to calm down a little," he said wisely. Cato's jaw flexed angrily. "We all know what you're like when you're in off on a rage."

Once again, the audience laughed fondly. This only infuriated Cato more. "I didn't say I love him," he called out over the top of their voices. "I didn't say that, no matter what you delude yourself into believing. I don't love him and I'm not in love with him."

With that, Cato turned and stormed off the stage.

Blushing, Peeta faced the now-silent crowd alone. "Um," he started uncertainly. "I'm sorry about that? I'm just going to uh, go after him I guess. It was lovely to see you all tonight, and thank you so much for all your support. We really appreciate it." Waving, he stood up and hurried away into the wings after the other boy.

"Well," Caesar boomed, somehow still grinning. It was like he never stopped. Peeta would bet anything that if someone threatened to kill the man, his first impulse would be to smile at them. "If you thought that tonight was interesting, just wait until we get to the interviews tomorrow, where we'll attempt to get to the bottom of this stormy relationship."

* * *

It wasn't long before Peeta caught up with Cato, who had charged to the end of the room and then slouched there sullenly in the shadows as if standing in a darkened crevice would make him invisible. He hadn't even gone far away enough to block out the sounds coming from the stage, which buzzed lowly in the background.

"What's going with you?" Peeta demanded shortly, placing himself right in front of the other boy and blocking him off so he had no way of escaping without starting a wrestling match.

"Nothing," Cato replied. "Leave me alone."

Peeta raised an eyebrow. "Did something happen that you're not telling me about?"

"No." Raising his chin defiantly, Cato looked him right in the eye. "Nothing happened that you don't know about, I just need a break from you, Mellark. Now leave me the hell alone before I make you."

"Go ahead, then," Peeta snapped back. "Make me."

So, Cato punched him square in the jaw. Reeling backwards, Peeta stared at him with wide eyes. "Fuck," Cato said, equally shocked. "Fuck, I don't know why I did that. Are you okay?"

The other boy nodded, and, running his tongue along his teeth, checking to see none of them had come loose with the blow. It had been quite a hard punch, and although Peeta was certain the Capitol would happily replace any teeth he lost, he'd much rather have all of his own. "I think so. Are you done being a dick?"

"Yeah," Cato assured him. "Yeah, I am." He reached up to run gentle fingertips over the bruise already forming across Peeta's chin. "I'm sorry," he whispered, so soft Peeta had to lean closer to hear him. "I don't mean to hurt you."

Peeta sighed, pulling him close and resting his forehead against the taller boy's shoulder. "I know you don't," he said. "You should probably work on that."

"Probably," Cato agreed, lightly stroking one hand through the other boy's hair.

They stayed like that for a long while, silently tucked away together in the shadows where no one would think to look unless they knew to. It was the clack of Effie's heels against the hard marble floor, and her worried calls of 'Peeta? Peeta!' that eventually pulled him back to the real world.

"I have to go," he said, pushing himself away from Cato.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Cato offered uncertainly, like he was genuinely worried that the other boy wouldn't want to see him.

Rolling his eyes, Peeta just nodded. "Yeah, sure," he said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry we've taken so long to update! I know quite a lot of you guys thought we'd completed the story or abandoned it, which we definitely haven't. I was just on holiday without internet access for two weeks, which kind of put the writing process at a bit of a standstill (oops). Extra long update here to make up for it! As always, thank you very much for reading and we'd love to hear what you think, so if you can find the time please drop us a review! It would mean a lot. Thanks, and have a lovely day!


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